It's About Time
by robspace54
Summary: Time waits for no man, or woman.
1. Chapter 1

It's About Time

by Robspace54

**The characters, places and situations of ****_Doc Martin,_**** are owned by Buffalo Pictures. This story makes no claim of remuneration or ownership, nor do I make any attempt to infringe upon any rights of the owners or producers.**

**Thank you for reading and reviews are much appreciated.**

Penhale emerged from behind the pillar and shrugged, hands held in the universal symbol of I don't know, which was ironic for Penhale was a moron.

But if he was a moron then I was a fool.

The church was packed, every seat taken, and from the smell of naphtha most of the suits and dresses were out for their once-a-year airing. The chemical odor barely overcame the miasma of too much perfume, hair oil, flowers which seemed all the heavier from the dank air in the stone building.

Penhale rolled his eyes so I turned away to avoid a nonsensical visual discussion but the Vicar was questioning me from up the aisle. As I walked towards him I shook my head slightly from side to side and tried not to sigh audibly.

What was I doing here? I knew, I knew. But still why for God's sake didn't we just go to the Registrar and do this?

So here I stood a fool second time over, waiting for a woman that I was not entirely certain _would_ arrive.

"Fifteen minutes," the Vicar muttered as he peered at his wristwatch. "That's not so long for a bride."

"I know," I answered but my guts were in turmoil.

"Mind you about a month ago, we had a man standing right there… fifteen minutes, thirty, and hour…two hours. I think it hit three before the penny dropped." The Vicar went on in a gallows-humor sort of way. "Apparently she'd run off with the Best Man," he ended nearly chuckling at his own dreadful wit.

Did he think this was funny? I bet he laughed at funerals as well making comments about the deceased ill-grace to have their funeral during his favorite football match.

Now I felt worse. Why was I doing this? Once more putting myself into the public eye of ridicule and comedy. Good old Doc Martin, they'll be saying; once more a groom without a bride. Poor bugger they'll wag their heads but the meaner types will come by and throw verbal brickbats my way. Tosser! What's the matter Doc, Louiser finally realize one try was enough?

"Don't have to worry about that with me, Doc," Penhale stage-whispered.

"Would you please sit down please?" I told him and he sat his face falling.

I dared not look at my Aunt Ruth for she'd cautioned that this might be a horrible idea; that is she didn't quite say that other than asking prying questions of 'Was I sure?'

The Vicar went back to examining his watch, along with most of the occupants no doubt, while I felt more fearful.

Had the taxi had a puncture? Surely Louisa would have called, if she was able. But what it something had happened that she could not call? A dead mobile battery might explain it, if the taxi was delayed. But what if the tax had an accident? The roads were narrow and some of the locals drove like they were at Le Mans. God! That set me to thinking of more awful reasons for her being late.

I'd made her promise she wouldn't use Tommy's Taxis for her transport and she had agreed. I glanced at Morwenna who held James Henry.

Her young face looked back in wonder raising her eyebrows in a silent question, one I am sure everyone was asking.

Where was Louisa?

At best she was nearly here, just got a late start from Morwenna's house, who'd offered her cottage as a staging place for Louisa to change, since I was seeing patients that morning.

A few days before we'd had this discussion about timing and places and it made as little sense to me then as it did now.

"Doc, me and Louisa been talking and I'll come over to the surgery Friday night, help Louisa get herself to my place, I'll take the baby, and then I can help her get ready next afternoon." Morwenna was quite earnest in her speech. "Right?"

"Why can't she get ready here, at our house? On Saturday?" I protested.

Morwenna rolled her eyes. "But Doc! It's bad luck for the groom to see the bride of the wedding day before the ceremony!"

"True, Martin," Louisa said softly. "It'll be fine. I want to."

"But…" I started to say. "It's not like we… uhm… haven't… _seen_ one another; uhm, been together."

James gurgled from his mother's hip one sure sign we were not strangers by any stretch of the imagination.

"It's fine, Martin," Louisa said to me. "Tradition."

"Superstition," I muttered then went back to work.

000

So in a crowded church, surrounded by people I barely knew, I was thinking that she'd flown the coop. That phrase reminded me of my late aunt. Joan had been very upset when Louisa and I did not marry, yet her fallback reaction was when she moaned, "I always said you were chalk and cheese."

Well Joan was dead and buried, James was several months old and here I was; at the altar not for the second time but the first.

My head was now starting to hurt and I felt my heart beat faster. Was this a panic attack? I swiftly monitored my symptoms. No Palmer sweating or blurred vision and no nausea either so it must be nerves; a curious word for without nerves we'd all be dead.

The Vicar inspected his watch again as if he could will it to stop while whistling a little tune and I wished he would stop that. Or he was hoping he'd not taken the pledge after his hip fracture and could have a quick nip of whiskey to carry him through.

In mounting frustration I turned away and walked to the rear of the church feeling too many eyes pitying me as well as condemning me.

I didn't want their pity. What I wanted was just one thing. No I was wrong… I wanted one person.

When I got to the end of the aisle (_end of the road_ part of me thought) I half turned hoping she'd turn up and soon.

The decision to marry seemed fairly straight forward after Mrs. T took James Henry out to Pentire Castle.

Curiously what may have forestalled any harm to him was doing the exact opposite to the clinical advice which Ruth had given. By saying aloud what I felt, in fact that which I'd always known, the baby was returned to his mother.

We'd walked hand-in-hand away from that spot united by two things. The first was that we'd saved our son from a mad-woman by working together, and the second was that we must be together for the long haul.

I did love Louisa and always had if I admitted it to myself. That may have been the thing that held me back for by saying what was in my heart and not my head was taboo in the Ellingham clan. Yet when she kissed me that day, holding our son between us, it was such an intense relief. London? No. Portwenn instead and this lovely creature that I did love deeply and truly.

It was only natural then that we planned to marry, especially when it became abundantly clear that Louisa was even less inhibited than before with regards to our bed.

Nothing kinky along the lines of Edith and her games rather the idea that if we were together we ought to be BE together. Make any sense?

Sense or not the future Mrs. Ellingham made it a point to make sure that the doors were locked, mobiles switched off and the baby well and truly asleep each night when we retired so that our time together was… uninterrupted.

We'd spent far too much time apart. Far too many nights adrift in our separate beds and I had to give credit to Louisa that she was the one who put forward the idea of marriage.

Now I stood at the back of the chilly church, getting sick with worry imagining all sorts of disasters along the way from sheep on the road, to wayward lorries, sudden rainstorms, washed out bridges, and mudslides. Each delay or catastrophe was punctuated in my mind by an image of Louisa pinned in wreckage, bleeding from many wounds, her broken body scrabbling to pull herself out of a smashed vehicle.

Fear of the remembered taxi wreck on the moor kept coming back to me; a miracle she was unhurt only being driven into precipitous labor. More the luck our son was born in a public house.

Yet here I was hanging on a slim hope that if indeed she was unhurt from my mental images of tragedy then a simple explanation would suffice.

Her arrival could not be from an auto accident for surely Penhale would have received a call. I'd noticed he didn't have his police radio but certainly he was carrying his mobile and Police Dispatch would certainly call if there was a road accident nearby.

Makeup issues or a failing hair wave, or some type of wardrobe malfunction would explain her delay.

I tried to keep the ultimate fear that her heart would fail her once more and she'd flee from our appointment.

I'd been given all sorts of advice about marriage; most of it rubbish. Everything from being the lord of the manor, keeping Louisa in hand and under my thumb, to quite the opposite tat bride and groom were equal in all things.

Curiously it was Al Large who said something that stuck with me. "Doc, just be fair, right? Relationships… well look at me what do I know? But do more than meet Louisa half-way. Help in all things, or at least try too." Here he stopped and scratched his neck. "Ifen I'd done that with Pauline maybe she'd a stayed."

I was standing outside the market holding a bag of vegetables and fruit when this exchange happened. Of course it was more of the same rubbish I'd heard too many times.

Al turned to walk off, but stopped. "But you do love her, right?"

"Of course I do," I fairly bellowed.

Al smiled. "Well then, a time to love then, eh Doc?'

The people in the church were starting to mutter louder and more forcefully. I head a few choice comments about fitness or Louisa's and those took the wind from me.

Now my throat had gone dry and my knees trembled for my worst fear must be coming true. She'd not show up a second time - for all the old reasons.

I was incapable of change and so was she and that was the wedge to drive is apart. But we'd said the words to one another that we would try to be less… argumentative… and prickly.

That agreement of ours had cooled tempers in the house and it certainly made the bed warmer.

So then if all was well, where was she?

No, I was a fool once more. Ditched by Edith Montgomery after medical school, abandoned by my parents long before that, stood up by my fiancé once and now twice it seemed.

Fool! Fool! Idiot! I was the fool twice over it now seemed.

I heard a faint step outside, the short stride of a woman wearing formal shoes which were thick soled, half heeled and totally unsuitable for a normal gait.

I lifted my troubled gaze and an angel stood in the door. Shining eyes, chestnut hair, a trim figure despite bearing a child, wearing a white sheath gown and an overly large headdress of tulle.

She smiled sweetly at me and to my vision was radiant surrounded by a nimbus of soft light which filled the doorway.

I took a slow breath filling my lungs with air that brightened my brain and my spirits.

She _did_ come! Thank God! And about time!


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

When I lurched up the path from the taxi I was thinking I ought to have let Morwenna come with me yet I had wanted to be by myself when I got dressed.

Not much to it really. Take a bath, wash and dry my hair, put on the dress, do my makeup, squeeze my feet into these cute shoes and be ready. Oh plus pin on the veil. I'd managed to get the woman at the dress shop to understand that a head dress on the top and sides was as far as I would go but a veil over the face was definitely out of bounds.

That Saturday Morwenna was flitting about like a bird asking if I was okay, did I need anything, and did I like the floral bouquet? I swear she was more nervous than I was. The night before she'd confessed how she was willing to help but was terrified she'd do something to bollix it up.

"Bollix what up?" I asked Friday night as we ate cheese and fruit and drank wine. I'd left Martin in the house after dinner and James and I had been collected by the girl and escorted by her and Al. I noticed on the way that Al seemed to be nervous.

"Are you okay Al?" I asked as he carried my items and James' things.

"Fine, Lousier. Just want to help you and… uhm, Morwenna."

"I do appreciate it," I told him. This was different from last time. Roger Fenn had insisted on helping and he and Pauline had planned a lunch for me and Isobel, my other bride's maid.

But Pauline had moved away plus Roger and his family and Isobel I'd invited but she was busy that weekend. So to have a little pampering, such as it was, was fine. Last time was far too stressful.

Morwenna was carrying my makeup case and she looked back at us while Al carried my things and the portable cot as I carried James. The way she ducked her head and flicked her eyes at Al I wondered if something might be going on between the two. I shook my head as the village was filled with too many little intrigues like that.

Al chuckled. "Think the Doc will be okay?"

"It's only one night, Al," Morwenna said rolling her eyes. "Tradition."

I knew Martin wasn't happy about me staying away the night before our wedding. Perhaps this part might be traditional but his dour face broke my heart when we left the house.

After I bathed James and read him a story he drifted off to sleep and I tucked him into his cot, where he snuggled with his purple dinosaur and his blanket; the one that Martin didn't like.

"You don't like the dinosaur?" I had asked him.

"Erh, no," Martin grunted the first night we tucked James into bed with it. "It's cloth and babies chew on things. It will be a breeding ground for bacteria and in time, molds."

I picked up the toy and showed him the label. "Says _washable_."

He ducked his head. "Uhm, well then we ought to wash it _frequently_," he harrumphed.

Martin was like that, but I knew he meant well. Bacteria must lurk around each corner for him and oh how was he able to function? "We can wash it as often as you think best," I replied. Of course I knew he wanted James to stay healthy.

He nodded at me relaxing slightly. "Good, fine then."

So as Morwenna and I nibbled cheese and washed it down with a nice white wine, after James had gone down for the count of course, it was nice to be able to let my hair down. Part of my head was thinking about Martin alone at home, but perhaps he'd be dabbling with one of his clocks. Lately I'd kept him pretty busy night times.

"Penny for 'em?" Morwenna asked me.

I laughed. "Just thinking about… other things…"

Morwenna had filled in admirably for Martin in surgery replacing Pauline in no small part with her natural intelligence. She was a smart girl and I wondered why she'd stayed on in the village after she finished school. Taking care of her granddad was part of it certainly. "Morwenna? Why'd you stay? In the village?"

"Granddad needed me. He looked solid but he was shaky," she sighed.

"Sorry he's gone," I said.

"Oh, well, we live and we die. Right?" She finished her wine and picked up the bottle. "More?"

I smiled. "Better not. Need a clear head tomorrow."

"The weddin'." She filled her glass and sipped at it.

"No the Coronation; _of course_ the wedding!" I chuckled. "My wedding."

Morwenna laughed. "What's it like? I mean… the Doc… is he? Sorry Louisa."

I smiled at her. "Time to get on with it." Ours has been a tangled path by any stretch of the imagination. "No, no that sounds too… I don't know? Fatalistic? I always wanted children and a man of my own and I've got both; just that a proper wedding didn't get in there somehow."

Morwenna bit into a slice of apple with a crunch. "We can't always choose the road can we? I could see that when your mum was here that added a lot of stress. At least I thought she did," she back-pedaled.

I nodded. "No. You're right." I leaned forward holding my glass out to her. "Give me a half."

She poured generously.

"No secret to everybody Eleanor is a law unto herself for when she arrived a lot of wounds got scratched open." I sighed. "We settled a couple things."

Morwenna nibbled on a cheese wedge next. "Well you only get one – mum that is."

"But you didn't invite her – to the wedding."

I shook my head. "Actually I didn't want to. Better this way." I knew that Morwenna's mother had died when she was fifteen and her father soon after. "We don't get to choose our parents do we?"

Morwenna's eyes sparkled. "My mum and dad were the best," she said, then looked away. "Me and granddad got along _really_ well and he treated me much more like a daughter than granddaughter, you know? He was the best too," she finished with, and I saw her eyes were wet.

Her grand had died a few months back. "he was a good man," I told her and she smiled then touched my hand. I nodded at her and I knew that my family's history was an open book. "So here I am, the night before my wedding, _second_ one sort of, and we're talking so gravely. James is fast asleep and I think we ought to do something."

The girl raised her eyebrows. "Whatcha' mean?"

"Have to stay quiet with the baby upstairs." I walked to her telly cabinet. "Got any movies?"

"A few." She walked to my side, opened a cabinet door, and pawed through the shelves. "Got a lot of war movies, granddad's, and some sci-fi, uhm… what about this?"

She handed me the box. "No Morwenna. '_Runaway Bride'_ isn't even funny."

"Oops! How about this one?"

I looked at the box and read aloud, "Tells the story of a woman who has been a bride's maid 27 times." I handed her back the box. "Ground rules. No slasher movies or horror, no family drama, no one gets cancer and I want a happy ending."

Morwenna laughed. "This then," she said and handed me another video.

"Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman. Really?"

She smiled. "Granddad said it was the greatest love story of all time."

I held up my hands. "Never seen it, but whatever you say."

So as the black and white film played I tried to just watch it and not to put too much meaning into the screen action. It was good; very good. How had I never seen _Casablanca _before?

Saturday morning Morwenna went over to help Martin a bit then she came back at noon and we ate a seafood salad I'd made. I'd relaxed that morn after a lie-in with James after we ate breakfast. He was a happy baby that morning which I was grateful for. I was happy, I was, the way things were going, but a crying kid would have set me on edge.

"Your daddy is making an honest women of me," I told him, and though I hadn't felt deprived with a ring, it was high time to make it formal.

James was more impressed with creeping across the bedspread, or trying to, than with any change in his and my legal status. It was right, I thought, that his parents were married – so this was the day; our day.

After we ate lunch, Morwenna changed her clothes (what she was put one seemed off to me – but her funeral) and pinned up her hair once more, then Joe Penhale came by and picked up her and James.

He was dressed in his dress uniform. "Don't you worry Lousier," Joe told me. "I patrolled the route to church past two days and had the Council patch a couple potholes. Don't want anything to interfere, with…" his voice dropped to a whisper, "the Big Day."

The Big Day – one way to put it.

Finally all by myself I got cleaned and dressed, after a tussle with my hair. Up or down? Back or curled? On top of my head? Finally I gave up and brushed it straight down. With the veil clipped on it was the best I could do. I checked myself in the mirror and there I was; a bride. Not quite as fresh out the package as last October but it would have to do. Shame I sold the other dress in London but at the time I didn't think I'd have a use for it.

Finally the taxi was waiting outside blowing his horn, so I emerged from Morwenna's house to a slow clap of applause from Freddy the taxi driver.

Freddy was about sixty and slightly crippled by arthritis but he still drove. "Miss Glasson," he told me, "you are a _vision_. Makes me want to make a play for you," he cackled.

"Won't your wife mind?" I laughed.

He laughed. "Oh yes. Jealous she would be. The Doc's a lucky man and I do believe you are a lucky woman."

Lucky? Misfortune and delay had wedged themselves between Martin and me too many times. Maybe we make our own luck, I pondered? Both kinds – good and bad. I smiled at Freddy. "Get me to church on time," I said to him and he laughed.

"We're running late as it is," he winked, then handed me into the rear seat. "Mind your dress," he cautioned. "Can't muss it now. So pretty."

So I was driven slowly and safely to church and pausing in the doorway saw Martin looking very downcast. Why did he look so sad? Was he unhappy with our decision?

When the character Ilsa in the film told Rick, _'I can't fight it anymore. I ran away from you once. I can't do it again. Oh, I don't know what's right any longer. You have to think for both of us. For all of us.' _

The character was torn between Rick, the less than genteel nightclub owner and Victor Laszlo her husband.

I was stuck between two men as well; my son and Martin, but it was exactly what I was thinking and I _was_ done running away. I smiled brightly at Martin trying to stay calm and look happy. As I looked at him I saw him relax and if not actually smile at least he didn't frown any more.

I was right where I wanted to be and from the new expression on Martin's face he was as well. Right then, here we go. I felt happy and determined. No butterflies; well maybe a few. Martin gazed at me and I wondered what he was thinking.

I gave him a head nod to the side and he finally turned away and walked towards the altar where the vicar was waiting. My heart was thumping away like mad and it felt so good to be both excited and happy.

The Big Day! High time! Right. Let's go!


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Taking Louisa's nod as a hint, I trooped up the aisle hoping that Louisa would indeed be following me. The organist began playing the wedding march music so I hoped she was.

The Vicar was smiling as I approached him and he likely wasn't happy to see me. I heard a small burble of vocal delight so I supposed the bride was coming forward.

I turned just as Louisa started up the aisle. This was _it_. This was what I'd been hoping (and praying) for. We might have mucked up our first attempt but at least THIS time we BOTH arrived at the church.

Louisa had fretted about the dress trying on several she told me, agonizing over styles. For the life of me I couldn't see the point since she'd only wear the garment once and at for that for only a few hours. Finally she chose one made of silk with beading and lace about the neck and chest. She was very pleased about it of course, while I made vague comments to please her.

Fortunately I had no such qualms about wearing a suit as I had a dozen to choose from. I finally took out the black suit I wore for Aunt Joan's funeral service. It some way I felt she was there with us in church, although if she was she'd have had the largest smile of any. My Aunt Ruth sat next to Morwenna, who was holding James. My aunt had a bemused look, likely expecting the whole thing would fall through. Not this time, I wished.

Here came the bride, though, and oh my she was stunning. I was wrong about the dress for it was quite pretty and I must remember to tell her that. Rather I ought to say that she made _it_ look splendid and not the other way round.

A female vision of loveliness approached me and though it was barely twenty hours or so since I last saw her, I had missed her. The house was too quiet last night and too empty as well. I had grown to expect the bustle and chatter of Louisa, the babbling of our son, a pile of school books and papers on the kitchen table, a mound of James' toys… domestic bliss Chris Parsons had warned me of.

It may not be bliss to me, but I could not bear to be without Louisa. Our lonely bed last night reminded me all too well of our painful separations.

She walked to my side under the admiring gaze of the throng and she said softly to me, "Sorry, had a bit of trouble with my hair."

"Oh, I know."

She whipped her head to look up at me with a stern look.

"I mean, it's fine, fine," I added. I wasn't saying that I could tell that her hair was a mess, or that I could see that she had trouble setting it, rather…it was, "Fine." It always was fine; down, up, back, ponytail, it always looked fine to me – wonderful – good – great.

"You're nervous," she whispered to me leaving the state of her hair behind.

I shrugged. "Uhm, a little."

"Yeah me too."

"Who are all these people?" I said sotto voce.

The vicar cleared his throat and waved an admonishing finger at us. "Barely deloved…" he announced.

God the man must be drunk or was suffering senile dementia!

000

As I walked up the aisle I wished I could have pinched myself because it all seemed unreal. Well, the church was filled with people, and there were the flowers I'd ordered (little help from Martin there - he just said I ought to make up my own mind), and the music was playing, and Martin was here… as real as could be.

The organist was playing away - The Wedding March - and there was my groom, my fiancé, _my_ Martin waiting for me. The organist we had to dredge up in a hurry. Her name was Elspeth Crook and she'd come over from Padstow to help us. She was a friend of Phyllis Temple the owner of the Market who knew her cousin, who, well like all of Cornwall there were always connections.

When Elspeth heard that Mrs. T was in hospital and the church needed an organist for us Mrs. Crook jumped at the chance to help.

"Always love a good weddin'" she rasped to me over the phone two weeks ago. "Since I quit playin' regular with age and all I miss it. Your Doc Martin helped my boy last year or two with a bad bout of rheumatics. I'm glad to help out."

So I met with the old dear and she was sweet. Nearsighted, nearly deaf, and walked with a cane, but dear lord she could play that organ.

I heard the notes echoing off the stone walls and roof and I felt like a princess as I went up the aisle. _This_ was the line in the sand; cross this and it's the rest of our lives. That was good; very good. We'd diddled around too much – both of us - to get here.

I waved at James because he was squirming in Morwenna's arms and how I wished he would stay good! He was wearing the cutest little pants and coat and I'd tried to find a little hat to go with it but ran out of time.

I stopped at Martin's elbow and apologized for being late. Trouble with my hair.

"I know," he said.

What? I glared at him. Did my hair look bad? It was nicely straight, no funny curls or waives, or…

The Vicar interrupted us and began the ceremony.

"We gather here today to bless the joining of this man and this woman in holy matrimony," the Vicar chanted. "Marriage is not to be entered into _lightly_ but _reverently_…" he stopped and whispered to us next, "Which means you have to be sure."

"We are," I said firmly and it was so true. Mrs. T stealing James changed it all. Poor Martin! If only he could have said what he said it so much earlier? "I love you."

It's just a word… L O V E. But when you think about it, what will comfort you on a cold and lonely night, or when you're sick, or need a friend, or… or even are giving birth in a pub?

"Both of you?" the Vicar asked suspiciously.

"Yes," Martin responded in his 'oh I am getting my back up' tone.

I was holding my breath fearing what he might say or do next. Martin… well I loved Martin… but… there were times he could try the patience of a saint, and I'm no saint by any means.

I sighed and I hoped Martin would get the message that NOW was NOT the time to be cross. We ought to be happy, well I was very happy when I came into church but now I felt a horrible urge to chew my lower lip.

Martin's head did not bellow nor did his head explode from restraining what must be the anger inside him. He brooked no favor with fools and I knew what he thought of the Vicar. Granted he had dried out and was going to AA (I had heard) but he and Martin could barely look at one another, let alone ever have a civil conversation.

The Vicar went back to orating. "If _anyone_ can show just cause why they should not be wedded lawfully, speak now or _forever_ hold your peace."

That was James Henry's cure to cry out making everyone laugh, even me as I turned and waved at our son. This will be a story to be told over the years; how our baby made protest at our wedding.

The Vicar went on, "Do you Louisa Roberta Glasson take Martin Christopher Ellingham to be your lawful wedded husband?"

I looked up a Martin's face into those green eyes. "Yes, I do."

"And do you Martin Ellingham…"

"Yes, I do," Martin blurted out.

For some reason he looked sad or tense or just what I'm not sure but it was very clear he did want to marry me and quickly.

The Vicar shook his head in disbelief. "Does the Best Man have the ring?"

"No," I heard Penhale announce behind us while Martin dug the gold bands put of his pocket.

"With this ring…" the Vicar was saying, but Martin took my hand and slid the ring firmly onto my ring finger. He put his ring onto his hand too and I was taken aback. We'd practiced this the other afternoon while Martin fussed and fumed. I suppose he was just nervous and forgot and wanted to move things along. But still it felt uncomfortable; all our planning…

The Vicar started, "Yes, right we're not quite ready for the putting on the ring bit…"

Martin glared at the man.

"Apparently we are… so, by the power invested in me…"

Was that it? So quickly? I'd hoped for a bit more of the Vicar's words for he had showed me part of the homily and it was very good. All about faithfulness, loyalty, caring and care, plus human love being a sign from God above. I wasn't particularly religious and Martin even less so but it made you think.

"I now pronounce you man and wife!" the Vicar said and that was that.

I smiled as a bolt of electricity ran through me! We're married! I'm married to Martin and him to me!

Martin looked like he didn't believe it was done, glancing first at the Vicar then gazing at me In shock.

I smiled up at my husband and how good it felt to think that for real! My husband.

We kissed and it was… heavenly! Finally.

000

"You may now kiss the bride," the Vicar said so I did. I smelled Kenzo Flower, deodorant, hair spray, toothpaste, and mouthwash and her lips were soft and warm and tasted of raspberry lipstick.

Later at the reception Jackie Fricketts slid up to me. "_Twelve_ seconds, Doc."

"Twelve seconds what?" I asked the cold coot.

He smiled a gap-toothed grin, while beads of cider dribbled down his whiskered chin. He nudged my elbow. "You know."

"Know what?" I hissed.

He smacked his lips in a smooching noise and I drew back. "The snoggin' in the church! Twelve bloody seconds! Won me a tenner off Bert Large for that!" He lifted his glass to me. "Cheers!"

I managed to push my way over to Louisa. "Who _are_ all these people?"

"Guests, Martin."

"Some of them were clearly making wagers on our wedding," I grumbled as I looked around the room and added, "And I am quite certain we did NOT invite most of this lot."

"Well that's the way things are done here."

"And I'm _very_ certain Chippy Miller isn't a friend!" He'd just been hitting me up for a medical exam.

"Martin _we_ wanted a small wedding but the village wanted it otherwise."

I sucked in an irritated breath. "Louisa, they've just come for the free food and cider!"

She laughed. "Part of our way."

"God…" I looked around. "Perhaps we can…" I looked around. "Leave early?"

Morwenna wobbled toward us. "Don't think you two can run off now," she hooted gleefully. "There's the dancing and the cake cutting."

All I could do was close my eyes and sigh but Louisa touched my arm reassuringly a sign I was to trust her, so I opened them.

She was smiling happily at me. "It's fine… just…"

I looked deep into her eyes and tried to relax. "Okay."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

I patted Martin's hand. "Just a bit longer." He was so antsy if he was a teenager I'd think he couldn't wait to get his bride somewhere private so he could undress her. But no, Martin was being _Martin_. I knew it was his way of dealing with too many people, standing too close, especially ones who irritated him. He'd just turn his back and walk away when that happened. Maybe part of the undressing urge was in him for I certainly hoped so.

I had asked Ruth, ""Do I look married?"

Ruth gave me one of her 'no really' expressions as she glanced around at the pink and white balloons, people eating and drinking, music played by a DJ, in the largest nearby hotel. She nodded. "Now you do."

Married - Lord that seemed like such a heavy word.

Morwenna must be tipsy for she was acting loopy and she had drunk most of the wine the night before. I liked Morwenna; she was a good egg about all this wedding kerfuffle. I'd not really thought a girl's night out but she gave me one anyway. Lately she'd seemed more like a younger sister to me than Martin's employee.

I heard a spoon banging on a glass and turned as I heard Penhale holding forth.

"Hello!" he shouted and with a mighty whack swung at the glass once more and of course it shattered. Undaunted he scraped the broken bits off to the side with his shoe and started to speak. "Today a great man, a great physician, and the greatest thing to happen to Portwenn since the new parking area at the beach…"

Everyone in the room laughed.

"Married," Joe added.

Bert cat-called, "Yer a tosser get off!"

Joe ignored Bert's comment. "Married to one of our natural treasures, Louisa Glasson."

Treasures? I looked around the room and everyone was smiling. I guess I would agree.

Joe laughed, "There were a few roadblocks…"

That was saying something. When Joe started to make his speech I feared what he might say that would embarrass me or Martin, or worse send Martin into a huff, but what he said so far was very sweet.

"And diversions on route… and a quick stopover at the maternity ward," Joe look at me almost apologetically and mimicked a big belly, "the baby… but happily they have arrived at their destination."

"Oh please sit down," Bert called, which seemed quite rude, but he was teasing Penhale.

"Back in 1984, Tina Turner asked the question what's love got to do - got to do with it?" Joe smiled. "And the answer is…"

Music started to play too early, the music I'd picked for us to dance to.

"Bert! I haven't finished my speech," Joe said testily.

"Go on Doc! Dance!" a lot of people called out.

"I got some good jokes," Joe protested as more voices demanded we dance. "Not done yet!"

Martin looked at me quizzically. "I think this is meant for us," I told him.

"Is it mandatory?" Martin asked softly.

I gave him an out. "You don't have to if you don't want to."

But he took my hand and led me to the dance floor.

"I might be a touch… rusty," I told him. To my amazement, Martin elegantly slipped his right hand around my waist and firmly holding my left hand swept me into a smooth dance step.

Amazed? More like astonished! Martin could dance? I had no idea.

"I learned at school," he whispered. "It was compulsory," he explained.

Compulsory or not I felt like I was floating; floating smoothly along with the man I'd dreamed about (and cursed at times) far too long. He gave me an odd little smile, odd for him that is, but a smile all the same. It was… quite nice - no _more_ than nice - wonderful and that feeling lasted until I crushed his right foot with my heel.

"That was your foot! Sorry." God! Smooth move Louisa!

He choked back obvious pain but kept dancing, spinning me smoothly around.

With all the guests - invited and otherwise watching - we kept dancing under the disco ball lights. A fairytale moment? Yes… yes it was.

"Did you have dance lessons as a child?" Martin said into my ear.

We barely had a roof over our heads. "No."

"Uh, I thought not," Martin replied. Another woman might have thought that was a rebuke but it wasn't; just Martin being factual.

It was okay - no good - for we were finally married for better or for worse and I didn't want to be anywhere else but with my husband dancing in the middle of the hotel ballroom in the midst of our friends.

"They're plotting something," Martin said glaring at Bert, Al, and Joe who were whispering amongst themselves by the DJ.

"Oh _God_," I moaned, "I hope it's not something too embarrassing."

Martin's voice dropped lower. "Why don't we leave while we still can?"

"Yes! Good," I told him so we left the dance floor and collected James and his things from the girls who were minding him.

I propped the baby on my hip. "Hello James!" He hugged me and pressed his hands against my face while I wrapped him in a soft blanket for it was still cool outside.

"But…" I looked at Martin. "How are we leaving?"

He fished a car key fob from his pocket. "I still have my aunt's keys."

"Oh, right." I smiled at him. Trust him to be prepared.

"I drove us here from the church Louisa and this is her spare set."

I ducked my head. "They'll be disappointed - us leaving."

Martin glanced into the big room where they were all dancing and drinking. "I doubt they'll care, as long as the cider holds out."

I gave James to Martin. "I'd better make a trip to the ladies before we go."

Martin sighed but took James as he glanced at his watch.

I spent just a couple minutes in the ladies, most of which was digging through the dress to do the necessary things. Then I washed my hands while I took a look at the woman in white we looked back from the mirror. "Well, Louisa, you _are_ married. No going back now." But I squared my shoulders, touched up my lipstick and did smile at my reflection. "Right then."

Martin handed me James when I came out and we snuck out the side door of the hotel.

I saw Ruth, Morwenna, Al and Bert, plus Penhale and a few others gathered around a fancy car.

"Ah-ha! You are not gonna get off that easy my lovers," Bert complained where he had been supervising Al shining a red and silver car. "We have a surprise for! Can't have a wedding _without_ a honeymoon." Bert had one of those chauffeur's caps on his head.

"Martin! Was this your idea?" What a surprise!

"Absolutely not," he told me and his response was just as much not a surprise.

Bert rushed on. "_So_, we've all chipped in and you will be whisked away in the _fabulous_ vehicle to a luxury vacation with all the trimmings."

Aunt Ruth added, "And I'm perfectly capable of taking care of him." She clearly meant James. "It's only for one night."

I bit my lip. "I don't know Ruth."

"He won't feel you've abandoned him, and even if he does, he's far too young to remember any of it," she responded.

"Ohhh," I looked pleadingly at Martin. "Just one night?"

Morwenna laughed gesturing with a glass of cider. "Bags all packed and ready to go."

"In the boot," Bert told us.

Martin harrumphed. "You mean you've been in our bedroom?"

"Riffling through your ironed boxer shorts," Morwenna teased.

I just hoped that Morwenna had used some sense when they packed for us. I was wishing that she had packed the special nightgown I bought. I'd described it to her last night so fingers crossed it had made its way into an overnight bag.

Then Al said, "Oh yes and the Large Restaurant has donated a fully stocked hamper to get your wedding night off with a bang, Doc!"

Martin had that look of an obstructionist, so I asked him, "Martin can we?"

We'd talked about going away for a weekend, but what with his reticence and the need to care for James that had died aborning. When we mutually agreed it was not a good idea I binned the pages of island bookings I'd been looking at on the sly. The Canary Islands looked good though and Barcelona as well. Well, I thought, maybe we can honeymoon next lifetime.

We didn't need a honeymoon, not really, but still it was attractive. Given we had had a baby well before our marriage it did seem silly but the idea of getting away just the two of us did sound nice. "Can we?" I repeated. Please say yes, I was thinking. Please?

Martin gave me an unsure look. "Uhm, eh, well… if you _really_ want to…" Martin muttered.

"Quick! Before he changes his mind," Bert laughed and just like that Ruth took James and we were plopped down into the limousine while I spewed out advice about baby food and James latest sleeping difficulties, aided by Martin's comments, which probably weren't helpful.

As we settled into the back seat I took Martin's hand and squeezed his fingers. We were married now and yes love has _everything_ to do with it... Tina Turner was right in so many ways.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Bert started the car and it began to move, accompanied by a clattering of metal against pavement as Penhale scampered alongside shouting at us. "Doc, Doc! I didn't get to finish my speech! And I got some really great jokes. It goes like this. A man goes to the doctor…"

So I rolled up the window.

"Bert!" I commanded. "Stop the car!" That noise had to stop for I knew what it was, having helped to booby-trap Chris Parson's car on the occasion of his wedding back in medical school.

"What's wrong?" our driver asked.

"Just stop!"

Louisa jumped. "Martin?"

As soon as the car jolted to a stop I got my door open, heaved Penhale aside and at the rear of the car tore free the clattering chain of tin cans tied to the bumper by rope. I tried to throw it aside but got tangled up so only by kicking and jerking managed to get free. Penhale, unfortunately, was in the target zone and I struck him with the cans I think for I heard him yelp. I was so irritated I did not offer either concern or help.

Unfortunately Penhale did not get the hint. That did not stop his blather. "Doctor, Doctor, I think I need glasses…" he went on.

I shoved him out of the way, got back into the car, and slammed the door in his face. "Let's go Bert!" I grumbled.

Louisa scooted across the seat and took my hand briefly, then dropped it to smooth her dress. She sighed.

"Problem?" I asked.

She smiled at me and took my hand again. "No. It's fine… all good… all fine." Her other hand smoothed her hair. "Martin."

I was quite taken by her smile, her hair, the dress, so much so that I was quite unaware that Bert was speaking to us. She was so… so… so _beautiful_. When she at last appeared at the church my first thought was that an angel stood in the doorway.

The soft light from the cloudy sky backlit her form, the gauzy veil added a hint of halo about her pretty head, and for just an instant the tops of two curved tombstones in the churchyard beyond gave the look that she had wings. An angel in looks I knew as the profound fear inside me that she might bolt again sank to nothing.

Louisa gave me an eye signal swinging her eyes toward our questionable driver and I turned my head and attention to the front, not that I wanted to. I'd rather gaze at my wife.

"Louisa, Doc, I am _so_ delighted, no, totally CHUFFED that you two finally tied the knot!" the fat man was tell us. "The _whole_ village is absolutely _delighted_! Uhm, _nearly_ everyone… I mean not everyone is delighted, mayhap satisfied… that you two…"

I glanced at Louisa and she was biting her lip.

"But I think you two are just where you ought to be!" Bert went on. "And James Henry - oh that outfit you found for him Louisa was so cute - and don't you worry a bit about Ruth! I'm certain she'll take good care of him."

I caught Louisa's eye. "He'll be fine," I whispered.

She looked at me and I could see worry there for an instant for at times she wore her feelings on her face not hidden as I did with most of mine. "Hope so."

Her cool fingers clasped my palm again as her thumb stroked the back of my hand rhythmically. She nodded. "You're good with this?" she asked softly.

Good with this? Our wedding or? "Do you mean this car ride to who knows where?" For a fear was festering that what Bert and his co-conspirators called a fabulous location might be a disused farmhouse with hot and cold running pigs.

She smiled. "Yes. Unexpected," she said.

"It's what you wanted."

"_I_ didn't plan it, Martin," she countered.

I felt a sneer forming. "Neither did I. Let's hope it's not…"

"_Too_ awful," she muttered. "I mean I like Bert, but, uhm, well, sometimes…"

"_Now_, my lovebirds," Bert interrupted, "this spot we're heading is wonderful!"

By now we were well away from the church and the coast and the moor opened up before our eyes.

"So Bert where are you taking us?" Louisa asked him.

We passed a sign at a crossroads so I got a general sense of where we were and it was far from the village.

"You two lovebirds just sit back and enjoy the ride, see? This is _your_ day."

I demanded, "Just tell us where we're going."

"I don't want to ruin the _surprise_ Doc. Let's just say it's the most romantic spot in all of Cornwall. It comes with a _Bert Large_ stamp of approval."

"That doesn't exactly fill me with confidence," I complained.

"Here, I had my honeymoon in this lodge, Doc. That's how deep the personal guarantee goes!"

"Oh right, so we're staying in a lodge," Louisa commented brightly.

Bert's head sagged. "Oh, great," he muttered, "that's a surprise _ruined_. I hope you're _happy_ with yourselves," he grumbled.

Louisa and I exchanged glances. It was our fault he'd told us where we going? Typical.

The landscape opened up and after turning at another crossroads we were somewhere on the moor proper for I saw Rough Tor off to one side.

"I don't think I've ever been out this way," Louisa remarked.

"That's the _beauty_ of it," Bert told us, "Isolated, romantic; no one around to disturb you. Now, I spent my entire honeymoon, _naked_."

"Oh Bert!" I blurted out.

"Was the wife's idea," he chortled. "She said Bert, we're _married_ now. The nearest house is more than a mile away. What do we need clothes for? Like Adam and Eve in the garden."

I leaned forward and slid the glass partition between the rear compartment and the driver shut not wanting to hear any more of his reminisces.

Louisa sneered at Bert as she primly sat with hands folded then she shared her look with me. The thought of Bert and the late Mrs. Large naked for a week brought too many awful images to mind. Granted skin was skin but… ahem I shook my head at the thought.

"Oh look, horses," Louisa said, as we were passing several grazing on the gorse and rough grasses. "Or maybe ponies."

Now the macadam had ended and the road had become a rough graveled track, with an occasional pothole or rut which shook the heavy car on its suspension.

Once or twice Louisa gave a little yelp at the more abrupt jounces.

"You okay?" I asked.

She patted my knee. "Now I am." She craned her neck out the sky. "Getting late. This place is way out. There's a farm," she pointed out a falling down shed, the roof a splotchy green where repairs had been made piecemeal. An old man was standing outside; as rough looking as the surrounding area. He glared at us suspiciously as he stood by the road holding a branch across his shoulders.

If he was the tenant of the farm it did not give me a very good feeling for there are those who lived on the moor by choice; one reason being supremely concerned with their privacy. The other general reason was ill mental health. Stewart James the Ranger found solace in these empty spots but I shuddered at the idea of living alone so far from what passed for civilization in these parts. Even I would find this place too empty.

There were many locales such as Bodmin Moor in Cornwall – a windswept moor - or there were vast tracts of deep wood and rugged cliffs and slopes where some eked out a scant existence. Like that farmer back there who likely lived here for a very good reason – he hated people – or he was mad as a hatter.

After a few minutes more of rugged travel, Bert rapped on the glass dividing us. "Here! You'll see! Not much further!"

The road went on for another mile perhaps then after several turns we drove up a narrow valley wooded on either side. Bert drove up to a single building. "Hidden gem this is!" he told us.

I saw a gray wooden house, sitting past a short footbridge. The house looked fairly new with a wide porch across the front and what looked to be a recent roof applied.

The car stopped so I got out and went around opening the door for Louisa.

"Oh this is _perfect_," Louisa purred, "Oh Bert thank you _so much_." Clearly she was delighted as she stood by the car her face rapt with delight as she looked at the simple house. Bert gave her a set of keys.

"It certainly looks alright from the outside," I observed.

"And here is champagne and vittles just to keep you ticking over," Bert said as he gave me a hamper.

"Oh _how_ romantic," Louisa said as she stood by the bridge.

"We'll sort out the money later, Doc," Bert told me.

"I thought you said this was a gift?"

"Well, what went around only goes so far," he protested.

"And no doubt lining your pocket at the same time."

Bert got back in the limo and closed door. "Now, I'll be back in the morning to pick you both up."

"How much?" I asked.

He laughed. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do," he scolded, yet laughing.

"_How_ much is this going to cost us?" I asked once more.

"Cheers I'm gone," Bert laughed as he started the car and began to drive away.

Alarm bells went off in my mind. "Bert! Stop!" I chased after him.

"Martin," Louisa said behind me.

The car kept going, Bert waving a gloved hand out the window.

"Bert! Bert!" I screamed. When it was obvious he'd not stop I turned to face Louisa. "Idiot!"

"I'm sure it won't be that much," Louisa said.

"He's driven off with our luggage," I told her. "We've got no clothes to change in to, or even… toothbrushes."

I saw a twinkle in her eye. "It's only for a night. I'm sure we can rough it."

If I had foreseen the near future her words would have been prophetic.

Filled with joy she said to me, "Come on, let's have a look inside." She crossed the bridge and I followed.

"Oh look Martin, it's _so_ beautiful. Look!" She headed up to the house. "Oh look, Martin. This is so sweet – so kind of them."

That's when I had the ill luck to step into a pile of animal feces – at least I hoped it was animal and not human. "Oh God," I said as I scraped whatever it was from my shoe. At least Louisa had avoided whatever I'd found.

I looked around the empty valley and it was uninhabited and silent. At least we'd have no nosy neighbors sticking their oar in.

Louisa marched up the steps to the porch, jangling the house keys, and got the door open.

I could only follow her in wondering if the inside of the lodge matched the satisfactory exterior.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

"Oh isn't it lovely Martin?" My eyes swept across a large four-poster bed, covered by a light magenta duvet, up against a wall half-papered in a rustic print, the others in a soft mauve, a few antlers and a two-seater leather sofa parked in the front of large fireplace made up the place.

Martin walked in. "It's a pleasant surprise."

It was far better than anything Bert might have liked and I was so happy that it far exceeded my low expectations. I was certain Martin had held an even dimmer view before we came inside.

I checked my mobile. It was tucked into my tiny handbag along with a lipstick, a tiny mirror, and a short comb. Plus the obligatory one or two crumpled tissues. "Oh, _no_ signal. No telephone either by the looks of things"

"Even better."

"Listen," I told him.

"What is it?"

"Nothing," I said with surprise and satisfaction. "Nothing at all. No noise. No traffic. No moaning patients or crying babies." I sighed with relief. "Just _you_ and _me_." I saw Martin fussing with the bed clothes, seemingly inspecting the sheets. "What are you doing?"

He furtively tried to straighten the sheets. "Uhm, nothing." He dropped the one he had been holding. "Just, uhm, nothing."

I folded my hands as I looked at him. "Good." I tried to keep things light. "Well… hello." I took a soft breath. "Husband."

He nearly smiled at me. "Hello." He took a couple slow steps forward then stopped quite close. "Mrs. Ellingham."

He reached for me and brushed my veil back from my shoulders, lightly squeezing them in his strong hands. Martin looked deeply into my eyes then bent his head down so I kissed him with my hands holding his elbows. It was a very chaste kiss, the way we stood, but my heart starting pounding as his big lips pressed against mine.

It was… very nice… very nice… and oh my word why did we wait so long for all this? The kiss was making all of me tingle and if this was the prelude then we were in for a very, very nice, and long night.

"I'll light a fire," he whispered.

Ought I tell him that a fire was already blazing where I stood? Perhaps not. "And I'll open that bottle of champagne," I said to him. I paused for I felt almost teary yet also happy. Martin… oh my Martin god I love you and I am determined to do anything you wish tonight - just make it last Martin, oh make it last… and from the quiet and slow way he moved and spoke I was pretty certain that was his plan.

Of course I had a plan as well, but I'd hold back on it for if he faltered, I could always tackle him and try to get that black suit off him. I once told him I wanted to see him out of his suit, which I had, and James was proof of that event. That was not the last deeply romantic encounter of course, and I had to say that since we agreed to marry we had been quite - what was the word? - keen or eager. Don't think those words are strong enough. More like well, use your imagination - something about teenagers on a hot summer night perhaps.

Martin knew a thing of two about love making and this night I wanted to just be about us. James was fine, we were fine, but even lacking toothbrushes, as Martin so quickly pointed out, I was sure we could get by. I would miss the silk nightgown I hoped Morwenna had packed, but… in the end we would make do and we'd make some memories.

"_Whatever_ you say," I told him softly.

He shook his head slightly. "I didn't say anything." His thick lips almost smiled.

"I know," I answered him, but oh my gosh in his quiet way he was speaking volumes and there was a silent band of trumpets blaring to announce to the heavens that we _were_ married.

I was so very proud of him. No complaining about the remote lodge, at least not in the last few minutes, or about Bert, or how much it all might cost. It was just him and me now. Me and Martin - together - and we had _all night_ to be together. And the morning as well? We'd have to see.

Martin went out to the covered porch and brought back a few handfuls of dry split wood then began to stack it in the fireplace.

"We really need a fire?" I asked as I inspected the hamper of food finding quite a lot of expensive goodies. Crackers, cheese, thinly sliced ham, mustard and mayo, a nice bottle of chilled bubbly wrapped in a quilted cover to keep it cool, a tin of oysters, some chocolate covered strawberries, and a packet of chocolate digestives likely added for a joke.

He looked startled. "Likely to get cold here - no central heating plant."

I grinned. "Oh we can, ahem, make do."

He ducked his head. "No night clothes."

I didn't think that was a complaint just an observation. I took a pack of matches from the mantel and lit the candles set about.

Martin flipped a switch by the wall and three small lamps snapped on, all of small wattage, giving the room a warm, yet dim, glow. "Dark in here," he muttered then he went back to his fire making.

The light outside was going. "We'll see well enough." Shrubs and scraggly trees grew close outside some of the windows making it even more atmospheric, along with the chintz curtains.

Martin got down on hands and knees and starting arranging the wood on the grate. He peered at me as I opened the champagne. "Are there matches? We don't seem to have any means…"

I tossed him the box of matches and he caught it. "Good catch, Martin."

"Thank you." He crumpled some newsprint and tucked it under the pile he'd made.

He meticulously built a little pyramid of splinters over the paper and then he laid on larger sticks. It looked quite workmanlike coming from my London surgeon, former surgeon that is.

He had changed, god he had changed, so much and a lot of it was for me. The wedding, the trek out here, he did it for me.

I smiled at the back of his head as he tipped it this way and that, adjusting his little pile of wood chips until it must have gotten to some ideal. My Martin, so… careful… so precise.

"Thank you, Martin," I told him.

"What for?" He twisted his head around to peer at me.

I gave him what I hoped was my best smile. "My handsome woodsman."

He shook his head. "Just… arranging the kindling for… optimum combustion."

There was another comment from him again about fire and I could have dropped to my knees, thrown my arms about him, and eaten him up right there. Dr. Ellingham you've definitely got me turned on for those twigs you have been fiddling with may be unlit but parts of me are becoming rather warm.

Mayhap things were going to work out here in Bert's Guaranteed Honeymoon Lodge. Not as far away as a beach bungalow on the Costa del Sol in Spain but there was still plenty of desire in the air right here.

He gave up so much to be here in Cornwall with me and James but that was just one of the reasons I loved him.

He opened the matchbox, took one out, then striking it tucked the burning ember into the paper under his wood pyramid. Of course it caught immediately.

I sighed as I popped the cork on the bottle and poured into two flutes From the hamper.

"Problem?" he asked.

I shook my head at him as I carried glasses of champagne across the room. "No, not a one."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

"Why do men always want to build a fire? Maybe it's just a _caveman_ thing."

I was blowing on the tiny flame, thinking it wouldn't catch when the small fire grew larger as the burning paper ignited the tiny splinters thereby heating the larger pieces of fuel. In a few seconds a tiny fire was burning away, growing larger by the second.

Louisa stood across the room pouring champagne and making pithy comments.

"Actually good there was so much kindling." I got off my knees and sat back against the leather sofa which faced the fireplace, so I might keep an eye on it. Just then Louisa approached with the champagne. "The important thing is to get it as hot as possible as soon as possible - warm up the flue. Get it drawing to counteract the uhm, air sink."

Louisa was giving me a skeptical look. "Maybe caveman wasn't the right choice of word." She handed me a glass. "Cheers," she said to me.

Not being totally unaware of societal norms, I lifted my glass to her so we could clink them together.

Focusing on the nascent fire I set my glass off to the side. Perhaps later I'd take a tiny sip.

Louisa leaned close after taking a drink. "Remember the first day we met?"

That is the day it all started; from what I thought was an exile to a new way of living. "I do; acute glaucoma."

She grinned. "You made me wear an eye patch and _I_ felt like a pirate."

"Mmm." When I came to Cornwall in disgrace, those who knew of my situation sent various gibes my way about becoming a pirate, for the Cornish coast was known for those some time back. Smugglers, and pirates, secluded coves and mysterious rendezvous spots, and hidden caves where the locals hid from the Crown's tax agents, but also the home of many famous seafarers who sailed the world's seas without bound.

Louisa was still grinning at me and the orange firelight made the planes of her face look seductive and mysterious. No mystery though for she was now my wife. Wife - mother of my son - my helpmate for better or worse. Chris Parsons could not attend our wedding as he, his wife Diana, and their children were on holiday abroad, but when we last spoke he'd cautioned me.

"Tying the knot, at last, Mart," he told me over the phone.

"Yes."

"Took you long enough. Better now than never," he chuckled but then his tone went serious. "How is… uhm, how is James Henry after the… uhm?"

"The kidnapping?" I grunted. "He's fine, but I have to say Louisa is still nervous about it."

"Well of course she must be! Poor woman."

"Louisa or Sally Tishell?"

He sighed. "Too true… both actually. But how are you?"

"I'm fine."

He laughed. "Typical Martin. Your son gets taken by a mad chemist…" he stopped. "Sorry Martin. Upsetting for all of course. Diana was shocked when I told her what happened."

I recalled Louisa crying into her pillow last night while I rubbed her back. "Then we're all upset. But we're… fine."

"Well at least he was unhurt and he won't remember the event. But sorry we can't be with you for the _happy_ event."

"It's fine, Chris."

I heard him sigh. "You're to be married in less than five days and you sound like you're discussing the weather."

I cleared my throat. "I… I'm glad of course Louisa and I will be married this weekend."

"Glad?" he laughed heartily. "Well that is an improvement from fine." He chuckled into my ear. "Just…"

"Just what?"

"Just don't be too formal with her is all. This is a wedding and not a wake, right? Try to be…"

"Be what?"

He laughed. "Oh that inestimable Ellingham charm. Look Mart I've seen you step into a mucky surgical mess and fix it, without breaking a sweat. I've also seen you tight lipped with anger screaming at a registrar. Louisa, isn't… well she'd your partner, mother of your son, and now to be your wife… so…"

"So?"

"Listen Martin just try to be a little relaxed, right? Try to lighten up a little is all I'm saying. A happy day yes? Recall our student days?"

"I recall you spending far too much time at the pub drinking and playing darts rather than studying."

"Ah those were the days. Well you were there too - at first."

My turn to sigh. "I gave that up and so did you."

"Yes… thanks to a certain fellow student who tutored me endlessly. Got me through gastro and nephrology."

"Plus cardiology, pulmonology, neuro…"

"Stop!" he shouted. "I get it."

"And differential diagnosis."

We both fell silent as those days of medical school washed in. "Old times," he muttered. "Not all bad though."

I agreed. "No, not all bad."

"So, Martin you'll be married Saturday. Sorry we can't be there. But we'll be thinking of you."

"I'll tell Louisa."

"Speaking of Louisa, give her our love and say that we'll all get together when we get home. That good?"

"Yeah."

"Oh and one more thing."

I checked the clock. This call had gone longer than I thought it might. "Chris I have patients starting in three minutes."

"Doc Martin hard at work as always. Good. Best GP Portwenn will ever have. Here's the one more thing, my friend. With Louisa… try to be… uhm, well… softer. After all that's happened. Loosen up - try to be happier for her - tell her a few jokes."

"Jokes?"

"Yes, try to make light of something. You know how." He laughed. "Tell her a joke; break the ice. Bye Mart - all the best and congratulations!"

I rung off when Morwenna opened the door. "Doc? Mrs. Cooper is here and she's retching like mad so I moved her up. Here are her notes."

So my Monday surgery started with a bang but I pondered all that week about what Chris had said about being softer. So I was not totally unprepared when Louisa mentioned feeling like a pirate. Yes a pirate; a very cute one I had thought on that Harbor Day. I'd thought often about her wearing the costume, her long hair blowing in the wind, waving over the heads of her pupils, while I admired her tall frame and the close fitting tights she wore. And her boots weren't bad either.

So, semi-prepared, I said to her, "Well, see the alternative treatment is to apply a parrot to your shoulder."

She chuckled at my words. "That was a joke Martin," she said grinning.

"Yes." My joke worked. She was smiling; happy and I was happy too, if that was possible.

She nodded. "Very good."

I was overwhelmed by this lovely creature, my wife, nestled close to me so I leaned in to kiss her and she came closer. It was… very nice… very… nice as our lips met and got serious. A wedding, a bride and groom, a cozy fire, and… bliss to come?

My hindbrain suddenly sensed an odor, perhaps a slight smell of offness. Was the leather sofa against which I leaned full of mildewed stuffing? Or had the mice been into the sofa or the bed itself? I'd taken a quick look for bedbugs and the thought of scanning the room for rodent droppings had occurred to me, but since I had not wanted to alarm Louisa I'd stopped myself.

Louisa broke away from our kiss,coughing deeply. "Sorry, Martin. It's not you…"

That's when I started to cough too. Smoke! The room was filling with smoke! "Oh God, the chimney's blocked!" I crawled to the fireplace where smoke was pouring out, filling the room.

"Did you open the damper?" Louisa prodded.

"What damper?"

"It's like a kinda flap thing with a handle!"

Now the smoke was getting really thick so I tried to breath in small sips. "I don't know what a damper is!"

I took up the fireplace poker and start driving it upwards into the maw of the fireplace, where I could see the smoke pouring in. Something was there, something metal, blocking the path of smoke. I jabbed harder and felt the point of the tool catch in a crack, just barely. I pushed on my makeshift lever and felt the barrier give, grudgingly, and I could sense the smoke was rising now; going up the chimney yet not fast enough. More was pouring into the room than out. We'd suffer from smoke inhalation and the dangers of smoke, CO2 and CO were manifold.

"Watch out Martin! You'll burn yourself!" Louisa cautioned.

Now the flames were grower high and I could feel the heat scorch me. "We've got to put it out! We need _something_ to put it out!"

Louisa scurried around behind me. "There must be something!"

"See if you can find a fire extinguisher!" I turned and saw what I needed so I crawled quickly over to it after dropping the poker.

Now Louisa was running about, turning this way and that. "There must be _something_!" she shouted at me.

I grabbed the champagne bottle by the neck and scrambled back to the grate where now more wood had ignited and was merrily burning away, the smoke getting thicker and blacker. "Quickly!" I shouted then liberally sprinkled the flames with the wine until the bottle was out and so was the fire.

"Martin! That's our _champagne_!" Louisa shouted in dismay and I saw she now held a pitcher of water.

"Yes," I told her matter-of-factly but at least the fire was out and we were safe. I saw Louisa grimace for I knew she loved champagne but now it was gone;m all of it. Better safe than sorry, I thought as an excuse.

And that's when I heard a soft impact as something came down the chimney and the room faded behind a dark cloud. In the darkness I heard Louisa screech in dismay while the blackest, vilest, most evil dense cloud of soot and smoke made the world disappear.

Hacking and coughing, blinded by soot, I was shocked into immobility for a moment, but Louisa had a clearer head. I felt her grab my arm and pull me up. "Martin! Out!" she said through gasps while I struggled to get air. "Outside! Quick! Come on!" She pushed me ahead of her but at the door I slowed and got her outside first.

I was never so glad to see light as that grey and cloudy Cornish sky when we got out on the porch. A few good gasps of air and I felt better, while Louisa was bent over coughing like she had pleurisy.

"You alright?" I asked.

She looked at me and started laughing. "I'm sorry… sorry, it's just…" she wiped at my forehead. "You just have a little thing here." Her fingers rubbed something off my brow.

"Ah… got it?"

She stopped. "Yeah," she said but didn't sound convincing.

"Right." I went down the steps. "Come on."

"Wait! Where _are_ you going?"

"That house that we passed? Find a telephone. Call Bert. We need our luggage."

"I'm not exactly dressed for a hike, am I?" she protested.

"Well we can't stay here! The place is _awash_ with bronchial irritants! It _needs_ to air!"

She shook her head. "Ah, look, it's getting _dark_, and look it's foggy. Please? Can't we just stay _here_?" She nearly begged.

I dashed back inside, trying not to breath to find what we needed.

"Martin? What are you doing? Martin?" I heard her say in confusion as I groped in the Stygian blackness. I found the three things we needed and got out of there.

I handed her her shoes. "Seriously?" she said in disbelief. "_Okay,_" she said resignedly "Suppose a walk in the country _might_ be romantic – sort of."

I had left the porch and was heading for the path at the edge of the front garden heading into the wood.

"Martin?" she called out as I walked away carrying a large electric torch I'd found.

"Buck up! Come on," I called to her. Let's not dawdle. The faster we could call Bert the faster we could be out of this mess.

I heard her scuffling and muttering along but at last I heard her steps on the path as she followed. Louisa was right, it was getting quite foggy, so we'd better hurry. I set a rapid pace down the path into the darkening wood while Louisa trotted along behind me.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

"Martin! Slow down!" Now I was beyond yelling. "You keep getting ahead of me!"

"What?" He stopped and looked back at me. "Just looking for the road. I thought I heard a car."

"Did you? Find a car or a road?"

"No." His shoulders sagged.

I smirked. "Cause I'm sure it's the other way."

"Look _logically_ if we stick to the path, we can't go wrong."

"Of course _because_ nothing wrong about a long distance hike in a wedding dress is at all… wrong! Can you slow down? And I'm pretty sure the road is back the _other_ way. Are you sure we're going the right direction?"

"Look," he chopped at the air with the flashlight. "We've gotten this far, can't be much further."

I sighed at him. "And can you please slow down, once more?" My feet were killing me, and my calves were aching from trying to keep up with his longer legs and rapid strides. I admired his tall body but at the moment I hated his height. "I'm wearing heels, Mar – ten!"

"Right. Come; take my arm." He linked arms with me. "You just have to take longer strides – keep up with me."

"Fine."

"Steady rhythm."

I was already tripping over my feet between my long skirt and the uneven ground. "My shoes aren't much good for hiking."

He glanced down. "I know."

"Well what would _you_ have me do Martin? Hmm? Go _barefoot_?"

"Ahm, no." He tugged at my arm. "Keep pace; try to." He linked his arm with mine more firmly and we were back up at his rapid stride.

"Alright," I answered resignedly. When he got an idea in his head, all had better stand back; get run over or get out of his way. He was like me sometimes in that way so I knew that was the root of some of our problems.

Suffering in silence we marched at least twenty minutes, while it got darker as the light went and the fog grew thick. A breeze was playing up and now my face was chilled as the sweat I was producing evaporated. So much for an enjoyable evening. "Fun."

"What?"

"Joke. Not much of one," I gasped.

"Oh, right."

"Not fun; _not_ at all I ought have said."

Martin stopped and now I was pulling him so I stopped too. "Getting tired?"

He squinted at his watch. "We should have been on the road by now." He peered ahead. "The path goes fairly straight, but with that curve back there I'd have thought we'd be on tarmac by now."

"Well we're not, are we?" I patted his arm in sympathy for his misplaced navigation. "We ought to go back; to the lodge."

"Look we went straight ahead, on the path, so if we only make a right turn and travel at right angles, we should reach the road. Just go cross country."

I looked at him skeptically. "So leave the path and strike out?"

"Yes."

"Don't suppose you were a Scout."

"Uhm, _no_, but it stands to reason that all we have to do…"

I dropped his arm and walked away in disgust. But when I looked around a thick tree there was a trail. "There _is_ an offshoot here, past this tree." I pointed to the right for I could see a wide track where feet had trod the ferns down into the mud.

He came to me and flashed the beam of the torch down the narrow track between the shrubs and saplings. "Good. Right then." He took my hand and led me down the new way.

In short order the way it petered out, though, or we lost it for now it was full dark and the ferns all around were almost shin high.

"I don't understand it," Martin was muttering. "We should have come to the road by now."

I shook my head as I rubbed my chilled arms. "Yeah."

"Yeah what?"

"Just yeah."

He put his arms around me. "We should go back."

I enjoyed his warm arms around me. "Good idea. At least we have food there."

"But no fire. I wouldn't trust that fireplace or chimney. It needs to be swept."

That set me to laughing.

"What can you possibly find so funny?"

I pulled him close and kissed his cheek.

"What's that for?" he asked, sounding very irritated as he recoiled as my lips suck his face.

I was surprised, but this _was_ Martin I was kissing. "Just because." Not the easiest person even at the best of times…. But all the same he was my husband now.

He shook his head and his cheek brushed my hair and my veil, now rather tangled. "I know." He rubbed my arms. "A squirrel."

I was startled. "Where?" My head whipped around but all I saw was dark trees and fog.

"No; at the lodge. When I went back inside to get your shoes, I took a look in the fireplace. There was a dead squirrel lying on the grate, along with about ten pounds of soot."

"So you killed a squirrel."

"Louisa! No. I believe it was already dead. Mummified. Probably died up there."

I shook my head. "Won't make Stewart James very happy."

Martin shook his head. "One of his furry friends most like; name of Cleopatra, perhaps."

I laughed despite our predicament. "Another joke. Anthony and Cleopatra."

"Yes…" he snuggled close for a few seconds so I snuggled right back. "Come on, we'll backtrack," he suggested.

"Right. At least there's a bed back there and blankets."

Backtrack sounds _so_ easy – maybe in a city or on the moor, but surrounded by trees and hemmed in by darkness and fog, we blundered about for ten minutes before we gave it up. "This is no good, Martin. All the trees look the same."

Martin was a few yards away searching the ground with the beam of the torch. I heard him grunt. "You may be right."

I clamped down hard not to say something too harsh. "Now what? Can we figure out which way to go?"

He walked back to me, his head scanning and the torch flashing about. "Right. Uhm… listen."

I turned my head but didn't hear anything. "What?"

"Water; a stream or a brook. Hear it?" he pointed. "Over that way."

"Okay. So we find the stream and then a _boat_ and we just row home?"

"No! Louisa… look! What would have me do?" he huffed.

I held up my hands. "Fine. _Fine_. You're the head of this expedition." For now. I bit at my lip.

"When we find a stream we can follow it. Eventually it will come to a bridge, and a bridge means a road or a lane."

I shook my head. "Let's hurry then, I'm freezing." I shifted in the mud from foot to foot. "Let's move."

He started to take off his coat. "You should take this."

"No, no, I'm fine. But let's get going. The faster we move the faster we'll find a phone and the sooner we can call Bert. All I want now is to go home."

Martin peered at me curiously. "Whatever you say."

Soon enough nothing looked familiar as we walked on a straight line towards God knew what. "Well we're definitely going the wrong way.," I muttered. "When we left we had trees on the left and now they're all around us."

"I'm not certain that's correct."

"We're in the middle of a forest, Martin!"

He harrumphed. "Strictly speaking it isn't a forest. It's a wood."

"Seriously? That's your argument?" I'd had enough. "You're going the wrong way and the best you can do is split hairs over what constitutes a forest?"

That's when he shushed me.

"No Martin! You can't just shush me!"

"Shuush! Someone's out there," he whispered.

He moved the light around, but all I saw were trees in this forest – yes a _forest_.

"Hello?" he called.

I heard twigs snap.

"Who's there?" Martin called out in an authoritative tone. "Show yourself."

Martin was right, there was someone, or thing, out there for the woods were filled with a chill menace hiding in the icy fog.

Martin cleared his throat. "All _right_! I've had just about enough. I want this to stop instantly. Show yourself!" Now he was cross. "This is my final warning!"

Abruptly a black horse sauntered into the beam of our light and it snorted while Martin yelled out, "Ohhh! God!"

The horse walked past us without a care, while my husband backed up against me and I tried not to squeal.

"_Stupid_ animal," Martin spat at it.

I shook my head. "You're really not the outdoor type are you?"

Martin waved his arms at the now unseen horse. "Shoo!" he exhaled mightily. "Right. _Now_… let's find that telephone." He walked away and I could not help myself. "Martin! Careful!"

His senses alert, he whirled on me, eyes wide and mouth agape, half screaming at me.

"Sorry. I thought I saw a rabbit. I didn't want you to get a fright…"

He clamped his mouth shut and stomped away.

"I didn't want you to get into a confrontation with it…" I giggled. "Or anything. This is my FINAL warning!"

"Yes," Martin replied.

"Show yourself!"

"I was _trying_ to protect _you_," he said testily.

"Final warning, good God." I was still giggling. Final warning? Right. Martin had tried to subdue Jonathan with a desk lamp and now an 800 pound horse with a verbal warning. I sighed for Martin was Martin. Afraid of a horse? Likely looking for a handout.

From the set of Martin's rigid neck and back as he walked in front of me he was really mad, but I kept it up anyway. "Lions, tigers, and bears. None of them about fortunately. Maybe a poacher or two…"

He glanced back at me and from the set of his mouth, I could tell I had gone too far. so that made me stop. "Sorry, Martin. Just… trying to make light…"

"Yes." The way he bit his words off told me I'd really hurt his feelings. He stood there in his wedding suit (as well as the funeral one – I hoped that was _not_ an omen) and he looked lost in more ways than one.

I took his hand. "Not what either of us hoped, I know. I apologize about that back there."

He cocked his head and sighed. "Yes. I thought we'd have found the road by now."

"Oh… I meant…" a little sigh came out. I was feeling miserable, lost in the forest and I was making fun of Martin. Shame on me. I felt tears start to well up. Damn.

A soot-smeared hand softly touched my cheek. "_Wonderful_ honeymoon excursion."

That was sarcasm I could tell so I looked very hard at him; my husband, dirty, damp, tired, and out of sorts. "I don't think this is quite what Bert, Al, and Morwenna had in mind."

He nodded and waved the light around then looked down at the soil. "Pebbles and mud."

"What of it?"

"Pebbles. Water rounded…" He held up a hand so I stopped talking. "Listen."

Now I heard rushing water.

"Right…" he took my hand. "The stream - it's over there."

In a minute or so we were staring at a stream, rather a river, for it was wide and fast. It flowed from left to right heading to the sea no doubt.

"Uhm, we might _possibly_ have taken a wrong turning," Martin mused.

"I've been saying that for the last fifteen minutes." I rubbed my arms for after our standing about I felt chilled.

He ignored me and tossed a stone into the water where it made a small splash. "Well it doesn't seem like it's too deep."

"I'm _not_ wading across it," I said.

He shook his head. "We _have to_ keep going in a straight line otherwise we'll start going around in circles."

I crossed my arms. "I'm still not wading across it, Martin. No!" Bugger that; bugger all of it.

Martin said, "Alright then I'll carry you."

The way it came out touched me. "Really?"

"Yeah."

"Sure?" He'd never carried me before and I know it was tradition to carry the bride over the threshold, but this? Across a river? It was at least thirty feet wide maybe more and I didn't relish getting dunked.

He put his arms around me while I tried to climb onto his back. Course he had his shoulder in my gut and it all was wrong… "Don't drop me!" I screeched.

He did manage to pick me up and then at that romantic moment grunted, "You're crushing my windpipe."

"God! Sorry!" I slipped off his shoulder while he coughed and cleared his throat. "You okay?"

He cocked his head. "Piggyback then."

This time I put my arms around his chest, from back to front, not his throat, as he supported my thighs while I perched on his back. I could feel him straining as he lifted me. "You can do this?"

"Yes," he said but I could tell he was being hopeful.

I kissed his ear as he started into the water. "Happy honeymoon. Not the way you imagined we'd be spending our wedding night."

He gasped as his feet went into the stream. "Not like _this_! This is a _mistake_! We _should_ be at home." His feet splashed and stumbled over unseen rocks and Lord knew what else in the dark water.

When he stumbled I thought we'd fall. "Ooooh! Steady Martin!" I grabbed at his coat as I felt myself slipping down.

"Yes," he replied and I heard him pant. "Idiot Bert! Abandoning us in that place."

I tried to pull myself higher on his back as cold water splashed my bum. "Well, him and the villagers wanted to surprise us. They're not awful people."

"Well they all knew we didn't want a honeymoon."

"Well you didn't want a honeymoon."

"Well, you agreed," Martin answered huffily.

"I didn't want to drag you off somewhere and have you complaining." Just like now. It would be, uhm, _is_ a disaster.

He stopped marching in the water, now up to mid-shin. "So you _did_ want a honeymoon."

"I wanted _you_ to want one."

"Wha? Oh no! I don't understand."

"No, you don't do you?" I sighed. "You _never_ do." I slid off his back for we were finally on the other side. "Right. We're cold, we're wet… let's just… call Bert, find a phone and get home _fast_ as we can. You were RIGHT, this was all a big mistake." A mistake – he said – and now I think he meant more than just this trek through the wild.

"Louisa I was only saying that we had agreed – had a plan – and if we had stuck to it…"

"Oh?" I sneered. "I'd be feeding the baby while you did the washing up and then I'd play with James, bathe him, and get him to bed while you read the BMJ!"

"I…" he shook his head. "I'd have read him a story; I always do."

I was shivering half with cold and the rest was crushing disappointment. "Fine. Same old, same old," I sniffed.

He cocked his head. "Uhm… we _did_ get married."

I nodded. "There is that. Come on Martin – quick march. Let's get the hell out of this bloody wood – or forest – or whatever it is."

If he'd had started the forest and wood argument I think I'd have hit him just then.

He opened his mouth but closed it after a few seconds. "Let me lead, I have the torch."

"Okay MacDuff. Lead on." My knees were shaking and my teeth were chattering for more than my bum got wet when we crossed. My legs now felt icy. "Quick as you can."

Martin took the lead, but held out a hand for me to hang on to.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

I towed Louisa along for a perhaps a quarter of a mile (I was counting steps) when she charged into the lead and from the dirty look she gave me as she brushed by me, I wondered what I'd done wrong. "Not my fault, Louisa. It's Bert's," I protested.

She snapped back, "Oh right. _Bert_ got us lost in the forest."

"Wood," I corrected.

"What?" she retorted.

"Uhm, look, I think you should slow down or at least take the light."

She glanced back. "No, just sweep it around. I think the sky is lighter. Can see a bit better."

Dark trees rose from the floor of the wood covered with ferns and rough bracken, their blackened branches reaching to the sky. Between the thick branches and leaves overhead I could see clouds, backlit by what must be moonlight. It was a depressing sight, broken only by the rather fetching image of my wife's bum as she marched forward a few yards ahead of me. Oh Louisa, good Lord this is not how I wanted this evening to go! Despite our rather desperate circumstance I found myself thinking more and more about her - all of her; her hair, her eyes, her long legs… how they would feel, how warm they could be, her slender arms playing with my hair, how her lips would be warm and soft.

"Martin?"

I was shaken from my erotic reverie. "Yes?"

"What time is it?"

"Uhm, nearly half twelve."

"Midnight?"

"Twelve twenty-eight to be exact."

She stopped and turned about glowering at me as she folded her arms across her chest in a defiant pose. "So we're been hiking for how long?"

"Nearly five and a half hours."

Her eyes flashed fire then her head fell. "This is awful."

I approached her and tried to hug her.

"No! Just…" her hands waved me back brusquely. "Just let's get out of this mess."

I looked very hard at her. She must be tired. "We could stop and rest?"

"Where Martin? Do you see an oasis anywhere about? Hm? An hotel; a B and B? A cozy leather sofa in front of a fire?" Her teeth took to chewing on her lower lip. "I had plans for that sofa," she muttered.

"Louisa, I was only suggesting that we find a stump, or a log, or something to sit on; just for a little while. You must be tired." I stopped. What did she say about a sofa? "A sofa?"

She looked away. "So your weak and bedraggled little bride is too frail to get through this? That it? And I must be protected?" She laughed. "_Final warning_ – right."

"So… what then? Stand here until we freeze, or collapse from exhaustion and lack of sustenance? I didn't say that - about the horse - that I thought you were weak! I had NO idea what was coming at us. Might have been…"

She tossed her head. "And I suppose you're thinking this might all have gone better if you were with someone else."

"What? Don't be ridiculous!"

"Like Edith Montgomery?"

"Don't say that!"

"Or maybe Carrie Wilson? She sure made a play for you!"

I shook my head at her. "Don't be absurd! Louisa I only want to be with ahm… with you." Did she doubt already. "You're my wife."

That got me a smile. "Oh." She shook her head. "But I want to go _home_; our home."

"Me too."

She glared at me. "If we'd only dispensed with a fire."

"I thought you'd like it, plus it was cold in the lodge." I shook my head. "If we'd stayed in the village…"

"Oh? This is my fault as well? Because I wanted to take a honeymoon trip?"

My mouth dropped. "Did I say that?"

She sighed and bit at her lower lip. "No, you didn't. But you're likely thinking it."

"No… I… uhm, look Louisa, quick as we can keep going the sooner we find a farmhouse and reach safety."

"Okay, okay," she protested. "I get it Martin. So… we ought to keep going, if… you don't want to rest. Clearly that farmhouse is _far_ away, _or_ we've been walking in circles, _or_ we went the wrong way from the lodge, or all of it."

I ducked my head. "There is that."

"The wrong way part? I TOLD you the road was the other way."

"Louisa, let's _not_ go through all that once more. We're here now." I stepped closer to her and tried to comfort her, but she shrugged me off. "Louisa… perhaps we ought…"

"Ought what Martin?"

"Stay calm." I sighed. "And find that farmhouse."

She laughed sardonically. "I wish I was on a beach in Spain or wherever, right now."

I nodded. "I… yes."

"Yes what?"

I shrugged. "If you wanted to go there, we could - sometime. But just now… we need to self-rescue."

"Sounds like we're on a mountaintop."

"I've been picking out trees ahead as we go. When we get to that tree; the one I picked out, I go left slightly. Then I pick another in the distance and go right slightly. That way we keep going straight."

She laughed. "Woodsman. What part of medical training taught you that?"

"None. Mark Mylow did. Mark told me something about it once."

"You're using navigational advice from the man who got lost in the forest and snake bit on a Bachelor's weekend," she sighed. "Whatever." She whirled about. "Now which way were we going?"

I pointed with the light. "That way. The large tree up there with the crooked trunk."

I saw her squint then she started walking. "Let's go home," I heard her say through gritted teeth. "Come on Martin."

I caught up with her and grabbed her hand.

Louisa shook me off and now she forged ahead, while I was in the van. "Can I say something?'

"No!" she snapped.

I heard her anger as she marched along and despite her complaining about her shoes she seemed to be making a pretty fair job of it for now she was ten yards ahead and leaving me behind. "I think you're being unfair."

"Oh? Right. Thank-kew." She looked back and I could swear she stuck out her tongue.

"Because you say one thing and mean another. You agree to something when you _actually_ want something else. Doesn't make sense."

She snapped back, "So if I'd have said I wanted a big lavish wedding with white horses and a gold carriage… and a big reception with hundreds of guests… and a weeklong honeymoon on some tropical island…"

Whatever else she said I didn't hear for the ground seemed to swallow me up as I fell into a hole of some sort. I slid downhill on my front, striking any number of bumps on the way. I got my hands in front of my face and head, so when I hit something it was my left wrist that took the brunt. I was stunned for a few seconds as I heard Louisa call my name.

"Martin? Mar-ten?" She sounded very concerned.

I rolled over and got my knees under me. I didn't seem to be hurt – just stunned slightly. Louisa stood on top of the ridge I'd slid down for I seemed to be in a broad depression. "I seem to be unhurt, oww! _No_ I may have sprained my wrist." My left wrist gave a mighty twinge when I pushed against the ground.

I flashed the light upwards and there stood the goddess I'd seen in the church doorway; just a bit dirtier but she looked very scared. "Right, I'm coming down," she said her anger having changed to worry. "Stay there."

"No _don't_. It's too steep," I cautioned her as I rolled onto my side. "I'll come up." Fortunately our light was undamaged unlike me. These LED torches were a wonder.

But Louisa being Louisa, she was determined. "No. Just catch me if I fall."

I wondered who was saving whom. I was getting to my feet when with a shriek she barreled down the slope and into me almost knocking me backwards.

"Sorry," she said as she put her arms around me to catch herself.

I pushed her back so she stood firmly on her own two feet and saw the wreck of her dress all wet and mud spattered. "Oh God, your dress," I moaned. It was beautiful, had been. Now it looked like she'd been mud wrestling, an event I had never seen, but had heard about - _disgusting_.

She shook her head. "It's fine; I wasn't planning on wearing it again anyway."

That sounded absurd considering she spent nearly £600 on it, but that was the way of brides I supposed.

She turned her attention to me, taking my left arm and pulling back my coat sleeve. "Oh no, you're hurt!" she moaned while staring at the bump on the side of my wrist.

"Uhm, it's nothing." It wasn't nothing for I'd felt something give when I crashed. I flexed it slightly when I was down and knew it was compromised.

"Here let me have a look," she said poking at my wrist, which gave a twinge as she prodded it.

"There's no need," I muttered trying to withdraw the injured member. It wasn't that bad; still functional, but I was certain it would start swelling soon. When I made it fist it hurt like blazes, so resolved to keep my hand open.

Right then the air was split by some strange noise – half scream and half scream – and it sent a shiver up my back. "What the hell's that?" I blurted out.

A faint voice followed, echoing through the fog. "I'll _kill_ you!"

Now the wood felt extremely menacing for I felt actual fear for the first time on this absurd adventure. "We have to get out of here," I told Louisa. Damn Bert! Damn them all and their scheming!

Louisa told me reassuringly, "It's just some farmer shouting at some foxes. It's fine."

"Are you sure?"

More screeching and yelling followed but now the person, the voice sounded like a man, was screaming a woman's name. "Edna!" cut through the night.

"Uhm, you're sure?" I asked Louisa.

"Yeah… 99% sure." That's what she said but her eyes showed alarm.

Lost, cold, hurt, and muddy, we stared at each other for long seconds while someone in this dark wood was screaming threats against God knows who, or what.

Then the screamed again, louder and more strident. "I'll kill you! EDNA! Give me some bloody help over here!"

"Over that way," Louisa pointed. "I think."

We heard him scream again.

"Yep, come on," she told me and patted my hand to comfort me.

Unfortunately it was my injured one. "Ah…" Fire raced up my arm. "Louisa…"

"Come on Martin." She hitched up her skirts. "Where there's a farmer there's civilization."

Looking around the dark wood I felt a shiver go up my spine.

Louisa looked back at me as she climbed back up the hill I'd fallen down. "Coming? Need any help?"

"Uh… no."

"Well get a move on then."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Aunt Ruth had held onto Mrs. Tishell until her husband Clive came to get her, then she and Clive escorted the madwoman to hospital in the Tishell's car.

I made a quick examination of our son and he looked healthy. I didn't; think that Mrs. Tishell would harm him; at least not on purpose.

James fell asleep immediately when Louisa belted him into his car seat, then she peeped over the top of the car at me.

"What?" I asked.

She tossed her head. "Now… what… uhm, do we do?"

"What do you mean?"

Penhale came trotting up just then. "Found it!" he exclaimed happily, brandishing his radio which had gone missing at The Castle.

I groaned as our inept policeman came near us.

Penhale went on, "It's fine! All good, but I think the battery case is cracked, and the antenna's gone adrift and lost; couldn't find it." He grinned the way he did. "It can be repaired."

Louisa nodded at him. "Glad to hear it."

"How's James Henry?" he asked us.

"Appears to be well enough," I grunted.

Joe nodded. "Good. Grand. That's swell. I hate to think…" he gulped and shook his head. 'Poor little guy I was worried what with her blabbin' on about feelin' free. Thought she might have total bonkers back there."

"She was," I told him. "But I didn't think she would do herself or anyone else any harm. Not in her nature, even during psychosis."

Louisa changed the subject. "I'm sure Martin will check him over Joe," Louisa said. "Won't you?" that directed at me.

"Yes."

Joe hooked his thumbs over his belt and smiled at us. "You got your baby back and Mrs. Tishell will get sorted, I hope."

"Once the drugs have cleared her system and she gets anti-psychotic treatment she ought to be fine," Martin pronounced.

"Still maybe I ought to handcuff her? No?" Joe nodded. "All's well then, but, what about you two?"

Louisa's head whipped around to face me. "We'll…"

"I mean," Joe interrupted, "You moved out; been living in two houses; all that."

I looked at her gently and saw her start to chew her lip. "You should come home, if you want to," I told her.

She smiled. "I… I will today. That what you want?"

"I do."

"Sure?"

Joe held up his hands in embarrassment. "You two don't mind me, but I would appreciate a ride back to the village."

"In the back, then," I prompted.

Joe did as directed and mercifully kept his mouth shut on the ride home, other than making cooing noises to James. "Like a little lamb he is; so – _precious_."

Louisa turned her head and smiled at me.

"You said it Joe," she whispered. "Precious."

Joe leaned forward, his voice now filled with concern. "You're sure he's okay? Wasn't hurt by that – mad woman?"

"He appears to be perfectly fine, Penhale," I answered.

Louisa glanced at James nervously. "Ninety-nine percent sure, Joe."

"And you two?" he said. "You guys okay now? None of my business, but…"

"Joe," I barked, "shush."

Heading towards God knew what in that dark wood I thought of the way she had looked into the rear seat at our son and then at me, as she snaked her arm across the car and touched my elbow.

It was reinforced when I heard Louisa say ninety-nine percent. "OH?"

"Yeah, and a fox and farmer means a farm house. Which means a _telephone_," she said next.

"Ninety-nine percent sure?" I repeated to her. "Not entirely conclusive is it?" My arm was still stinging from the tap she gave me on the wrist, but I followed her up the slippery slope anyway.

"Right."

"Louisa."

She stopped and look back at me. "Yes?"

"I… look, whatever happens…"

"Whatever wot?"

"Let's just stay calm, make a call and get home. And if you wished to take a honeymoon…"

Her angry eyes whirled away.

"I mean, if you wish a repeat, not of _this_ ghastly trip of course, but…" I swallowed hard. "I will do whatever it takes to make you happy."

"Wot's that mean, Martin?" she said glowering at me. "Happy to me might not be happy to you."

"There is that," I muttered.

If she wanted to spend time on a beach somewhere risking melanoma, an increased risk of cataracts, and being tumbled about in the surf and injuring herself who was I to protest? This was the problem, well, one of my problems; I not only evaluated the most horrible risk and made that a probability, not a possibility.

"Look, Martin, I'm freezing, so can we continue this chat later?"

I glanced around the dark wood. "Yes, travel planning seems daft at the moment."

"Martin, you're _not_ daft. A bit dense sometimes," she giggled and tapped my forehead. "But never daft."

I cleared my throat. "Thank you for the testimonial."

I got the briefest of smiles for that. "Come on."

We didn't hear any more yelling or barking from whomever or whatever, but we did see a faint glow ahead in the fog. The ground was thick with ferns, and brush, half of it fallen braches so we had quite a hike in a wavering line.

Finally I got a glimpse of our goal for there were dim lights on a sagging structure and signs. Signs which read 'Keep Out' and 'Private.' 'No Trespassing – This Means YOU!' was the least polite.

"Louisa I don't think this farmer will be very welcoming. But at least he can spell."

"They'll help us, Martin, don't worry."

"Louisa, we're miles from anywhere, who knows if the road is even close. And you can bet the denizens of that," I pointed at the decrepit caravan squatting ahead of us in the fog. "Lives here for a reason."

"Well, right. _Not_ a farmhouse then," she said when we saw the patched-together hovel in the dark wood. She took the light from me and walked ahead. "Hm." She waved the light over the signs. "Doesn't exactly welcome visitors either." She moved closer to me as I stood behind a large tree.

"We're here now. Come on," I told her and took a few steps when a giant dog began to bark, and close at hand, which set Louisa to screaming.

I waved at the dog. "Shoo! Go on, get…" Suddenly I went over backwards and fell on my backside, landing in a tangle of sticks and netting. From the pungent smell I knew I was lying in chicken offal. "God!" A hen or two went squawking and fluttering past my face. "Oh, no."

The chicken noises were accented by that dog while Louisa made cooing noises to me. "Martin? You alright?"

"Uhm, yes," I managed to stand but felt my pants covered in muck. I got upright when a gruff voice yelled at us.

"What are _you_ doin' out here?" The man was old, white haired and wild-eyed. Any notions we had about his not being friendly was emphasized by the over-under shotgun he wielded.

000

I cowered behind Martin, trying not to wet myself.

"Who are you?" the man barked. He leveled his gun at Martin's middle.

"We… were just looking for some help," Martin said softly, much as he spoken to Jonathan when he was threatening us. "Would you mind lowering your gun?"

"I don't like people pokin' around here!" the man said gruffly.

"We're not poking around here – we just wanted to use your telephone."

"Haven't got a phone."

Martin sighed meanly. "_Of course_ you don't."

The old man came closer. "Wot's with the fancy clothes?"

My chance to speak past a dry tongue. "It's our wedding day and this… is the honeymoon." My knees were shaking and I'm afraid my voice betrayed my terror. I didn't like guns, not before, and not now.

The man replied snarkily, "_Congratulations_."

Martin tried to sidle away backwards and that set the farmer off. "EASY Tiger! No – sudden – moves," the man snarled.

We froze in place, me clinging to Martin's back. I'd made fun of him for getting spooked by a wayward horse, but here he was face-to-face with a madman bearing a gun, and he didn't back down. So he was afraid of horses but not deranged hermits pointing a loaded gun at him. Strange; very – yet so Martin. When it counted he had what it took. Now he was protecting me or so I felt so. Martin – my Martin – was a man of, not quite steel. But he had backbone when it was needed.

"That thing loaded?" Martin asked the man.

"Of _course_ it's loaded."

"Well why don't you put it down before someone gets hurt? Yourself included." Martin cleared his throat. "And if you can't help us with the telephone… we'll just be on our way."

I was only too ready to leave this place and never see it again. Keeping ahold of Martin's jacket I didn't need any urging to back up.

"Oh, no, no, no," the farmer told us. "You're not goin' _anywhere_."

Martin froze but said to him. "I beg your pardon."

Martin was not the best with people – that was my department - and now I feared he'd get into a shouting match with this mad old bugger. "Martin… just…"

"There are foxes out here," the man told us as he scanned the dark woods. "EDNA!" he yelled and that made me jump.

Martin chose that moment to go into doctor mode. "Are you taking any sort of medication? Do you know what the date is?"

The man snickered. "Course I do. So should _you_, it bein' your weddin' day and all," he whispered. Then he screamed "EDNA!"

"Is that your wife?" Martin asked him.

"My dog." A grey and white mutt came over and sat down by him. "She's a good judge a' character."

I looked at the old man, and maybe he wasn't that old, just a bit shabby, his clothes weren't ragged, just a little worn, and if he smelled bad I couldn't get a whiff from the smell of the chicken poo all over Martin's backside.

"So, what happens now?" Martin asked.

The man's blue eyes flicked to the tangle of netting. "You start mending my chicken coop."

I peered at it around Martin's shoulder. It was a mess. "I'm sure it looks worse than it is. Probably just," I started to pick up the pieces, "stand it back up."

I glanced at Martin for help and came to me. "Just take a few minutes."

"Needs to be done properly," the old man grumbled. "You broke it," he said, much the way a child might. Then he turned mean. "You FIX it."

Martin coughed. "How about I give you some money and you can get it patched up?"

Money was a good idea. He'd likely jump at it I hoped.

He tossed his head. "Tools are over there."

Him telling that to my husband was not likely to work out well, for Martin, though a skilled doctor, and good with his clocks, I'd never seen do anything else of a handyman nature. I'd have to help. I dropped the broken stakes I was holding and went towards where the man waved the muzzle of the gun.

Martin took up a sledge leaning against the caravan. "Louisa I'll set this right and you start to collect chickens, uhm, if you can."

I rolled my eyes. "Right. Just what I wanted to do on my honeymoon trip."

"Louisa," Martin whispered, "Just do it. Then we can get away from here."

"And then what? We'll still be stuck out in no-man's-land."

He sighed. "At least we'll be away from this bodmin fellow."

I nearly giggled as Martin had used a local term. "Sorry."

"Hey!" the old man bellowed. "Wot you two natterin' on about over there?"

A hen strutted past my feet. "There's one," Martin directed as he hefted the sledge hammer.

I followed the chicken around the back of the house past a huge pile of boards, barrels, and sorted refuse. "God. I hope there's no other nighttime visitors buried out here."

When I snagged the bird, Martin was trying to drive the post he'd dislodged back into place. He was using his right hand and arm to swing the sledge barely holding the post with his injured left. Even I could see he was doing a poor job of it. "Here's one," I said brightly.

"That's good, fer running around they're just feed for foxes," the old man said approvingly but his attention turned to Martin. "Oh for God's sake! My dog Edna could do a better job!"

That set Martin off. "Well why don't _you_ do it yourself then?"

He smirked. "No. I'd rather see a moron like make a good job of it. Ha, ha, ha."

"Excuse me," I butted in for this was too much. "Yes we broke you're chicken coop. But you pointed a loaded gun at us. Practically held us hostage and now you're _insulting_ my _husband_!"

"Louisa," Martin whispered. "Don't…"

"_No_ Martin! _Good_ _manners_ cost _nothing_!"

The man lowered the gun and approached Martin. "I think you're missus is a little bit doolally."

"Oh _do_ you?" Martin bristled. "Look, I've banged your post in. Now just tell us where that telephone is and we'll be on our way."

The man reversed his firearm and nudged the post with the butt of it. It wiggled and nearly fell over and he was none too pleased. "Oh for God's sake. I'll bash it in!" He put the gun down. "Here! _I'll_ bash it in and _you_ hold it!"

That was my chance. I snatched up his gun and turned it towards him. "Apologize!" I yelled as I got my finger on the trigger.

"Louisa!" Martin squealed.

I swung the gun his way and he ducked. "Alright Martin." The gun went back to the farmer who held the sledge ready for a swing at the coop corner post. "_Now_, _apologize_ to my husband!" Cold, wet, tired and hungry, I had to pee, and I wasn't going to take abuse of my new husband lightly! He was the only one I had and took me long enough to get him.

The farmer stared at me with a puzzled look so I poked him in the shoulder with the gun. "Go on!"

He rolled his eyes but said to Martin, "Sorry."

"Now, fix your post," I commanded and he swung at the pole. Unfortunately Martin had just let go of it and his swing went wild hitting the ground.

"Louisa, give me that gun," Martin said as he tried to take it from me and as I pulled the gun away from Martin's grasp, I heard a cry.

"Owww!" the old man screamed and I heard a pop and crunch as well. The farmer was bent over clutching his shoulder mewling.

"Martin?" I said.

Martin went to him. "Let me see. I think you've dislocated your shoulder."

"Me? You mean you have! Wot's wrong with you people comin' round here in the middle of the night?" the man snarled. "Demanding things! Breaking things!"

Martin tried to take his arm. "Let me see it."

"No, you're NOT touching me!"

"He's a doctor!" I told him. "Stop whining and let him have a look."

Martin pushed his hand inside the man's worn denim jacket. "Yes. Dislocated. The humeral head's come out of its socket."

Little did I know that every disaster and misstep so far this night was nothing to what was about to happen. Martin was trying to wheedle the man into accepting help and the farmer was protesting.

I sighed and squeezed the cold steel of the shotgun tightly. Maybe I should just shoot them both and go home.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

The farmer winced as he moved his right arm but didn't scream as he had been doing. "Doesn't seem to hurt as much now."

"No, it wouldn't. The body produces endorphins to reduce shock. But you'll be in severe and incapacitating pain within minutes," I replied.

Louisa shook her head at me. "I don't think he means it like that."

"No I do. He'll be in agony." I could say that for I knew my game.

"Can you fix it?" the man asked pleadingly. His face was drawn, his eyes were wide and I could see tears form in them.

"Yes, I can."

"No, I mean properly," the farmer countered.

Was he doubting my skills? "Move into the light," I ordered.

He nodded, his shoulders slumping. "Right." He headed to his hovel, and Louisa nearly whacked him on the head with the gun as he passed her.

I hissed at her, "Louisa, can you please stop waving that _around_? It's dangerous."

"Martin… _stop_ tellin' _me_ _**what**_ to _do_," she bristled back. She must have thought I'd try to take it from her, for she kept it well away from me. Fine… now she was even _more_ upset.

I followed the man towards his caravan, all patched together with bits-and-pieces from a jumble sale and refuse pile most likely. He'd erected a sort of porch roof by the door over a flat platform. Barrels and boxes were stacked there, along with old animal traps, and horse tack. Was that black horse his?

He slumped down on a ratty cane chair. "Seems I'm runnin' out of endorphins," he muttered.

Louisa followed us, but the footing was treacherous with old metal cans, soup tins mostly.

"Louisa what your footing," I cautioned her.

"Do us a favor, luv," the man asked her. "Go in the caravan. There's a bottle a' whiskey in the cupboard 'bove the sink."

There was a water spigot projecting through the skirting board so I gave my hands a quick sluice as Louisa hesitantly went inside his home. I was glad to see she left the shotgun outside; so at least that danger was well and done. I didn't know which was more dangerous. This mad bugger waving the thing around or my exhausted wife brandishing it like a big-game hunter.

He leered at me. "I know wot you're _thinkin'_ Doc. _You're_ jealous. You want a caravan of your own." He sneered but I suppose he was making a joke.

"That's right that's just what I'm thinking."

"I feel sorry for you," the man nattered on. "Your boring life; getting marred with your wife."

That tore it! "Shut up!" I screamed in his face. Wagging a finger at him. "Don't you say my wife's name… with your… mouth!" I didn't have to treat this fellow, but I would, but I'd no longer play to his fantasies of superiority.

That must have gotten through to his addled brain for he just up and sat there gawping.

Louisa came back carrying the whiskey. "Uhm, got a bottle." She unscrewed the cap while he held the bottle in his good left hand.

"Right, let's relocate that shoulder."

The farmer took a huge pull on the bottle.

"I'm going to slowly pull your arm up to a 90 degree abduction and then we're going to rotate it."

I caught Louisa's grimace as I told him, "It might hurt a bit"

He lowered the bottle. "Get on wi' it."

In one swift motion I raised the arm up exactly ninety degrees to the side then pulled slightly rearward. With a crunch and crack the humeral head slid back into his shoulder socket. The snap of the tendons pulling his arm back to the proper place telegraphed into my fingers and I knew it had gone home. He'd be sore and would need both a sling and analgesics for some time, but unless there was a tear in his tissues he should heal.

He screamed, but stopped as I released his arm. He laughed. "Heaven!"

"Ah, well done, Martin!" Louisa said as she smiled; quite a change from the armed and angry woman of minutes ago. At least I got that much approval.

"It's uhm, a simple procedure," I responded and that is when I fell backwards over his dog. As I fell my arm hit a bracket or something on the side of the building and the porch roof collapsed.

Knocked flat on my back, but fortunately not under the debris, my first thought was for my wife. "Louisa? Are you alright?"

She appeared upright and unhurt. "Yes. Yes! You?"

"Yes!" The man was buried by boards and panels, broken glass and carboys, for he'd been using the canopy as a catchment system. The weight of the water filled containers had brought it crashing right down. "Quick get this off!"

We fell to, tugging at plywood, plastic sheeting, and boards plus a broken glass door.

"Hello? Are you alright?" Louisa called as we pulled and pried at the pile.

I heaved the last chunk of ill-secured rafters and there he was, at least visible.

Louisa asked, "Oh how is he?"

"You clumsy git!" the man yelled up at me when his face was uncovered.

There was broken glass and bent nails everywhere and to my horror saw a pool of red on the left side of his neck. I pulled his soiled coat aside as I pinioned his head. The pool of red grew and started to spurt.

"Is he okay?" Louisa asked as she came by my side.

Bugger! "Something's nicked his carotid artery! Don't move," I told him as I pressed my finger on the puncture. The flow slowed but did not stop.

Louisa sprang into action. "I'll call an ambulance! Where's the next house?"

"Louisa! There's _no_ time. In a few minutes, he'll have a stroke… or bleed out!"

Her grey eyes pleaded with me. "Is there anything you can do?"

Miles from anywhere, with no tools, trying to hold this man on this side of eternity with my dirty finger? I could but try. "Yes, but I'll need your help."

"Okay, right."

I couldn't work here, down on the ground and the light was bad. "We'll need to get him inside on a bed or something."

"There's a kitchen table right inside," she said.

"Good." I sighed. Into the breach. "Now, we're going to get you up on your feet, so we can walk you inside your… uhm, house."

The man tried to nod.

"Don't! Don't move!"

His eyes bugged out. "I'm gonna die, aren't I?"

"We'll…" Louisa patted my shoulder for reassurance. "Uhm, we'll see. Do you feel faint? Do your legs and arms work?"

"Not woozy – nuthin' like that."

"Try to slowly move your arms and legs, but not your neck or back."

He complied. "They work, I guess, but wot about my neck?"

"Good, for now, I'll keep my hand clamped on your neck. Louisa, kick any debris out of the way from here to the door, got that?"

"Sure," she said.

"And don't use your hands; just your feet. God knows what sort of rusty junk is around."

"Hey!" the man yelled. "This is my stuff… and… it's NOT junk!"

"Shush!"

Louisa kicked any number of things away in a clatter of tin and wood. "Ready I think and I've propped the door open."

"Good." My hands were slippery with his blood but I kept a tight hold. "Louisa, I need you to get him up on his feet. Quickly now! I can't help you for I need to keep this hole plugged."

Good woman she was she got him up and supported him around the waist.

The man mumbled, "A little woozy here, Doc."

From the pool of blood on the ground on what was on his shirt and me, hopefully the shock was more mental than medical. "We'll get you inside…" His dog made a dash out of the way for it had slunk back to us. "Louisa, get that dog away!"

"Shoo! Go on…"she shouted then looked at the farmer's stricken face and her tone softened. "Edna. Go on girl."

"Only fren' I got in thu worl'," he slurred.

I don't know how but we got him inside but the smell in there was enough to sear the hairs in your nose. How can people live like this? The walls were hung with all sorts of things and the floor was cluttered with litter from papers and soup cans to fishing rods and tools.

Louisa pushed trash off the table and at least it was sturdy. Well, it would have to do. I practically threw him onto his back across it. At least there was good light here. "Alright, I'll need a needle and thread."

"Top drawer!" the farmer directed.

"What else?" Louisa asked me.

"Razor blade or a small knife."

Louisa began to rummage through a drawer.

Helpfully the farmer said, "In the packing tin."

"Hurry up," I ordered.

Louisa stirred my junk around from the sounds of it. "Yes. I'm looking and looking. Ah, fishing line."

"Good." The man was panting under my hands. "You have to regulate your heartbeat; slow your breathing down," I told him.

He looked up at me beseechingly. "I don't want to die."

"I don't want you to die either."

Louisa came to me with handfuls of items. "Right - got it all."

"Cotton swabs?" I asked.

"Now where am I gonna find cotton swabs? I don't think he has a skin care regimen."

I ignored her while I stared at what she'd brought. Large needle, a spool of fishing monofilament, an old-style razor blade and a silk scarf. Plus a fuzzy roll of gauze and a handful of safety pins. It would have to do.

"Right, put you hand where mine is," I directed my wife who scurried to my side, while the farmer's hand rose slowly. "Not you." I wondered how Louisa would fare. She'd been in the ambulance when I had to operate on Peter Cronk so hopefully she would not collapse.

Unflinchingly she put her hand on mine where the gore was thickest. "Place your index finger where mine is and apply a constant pressure," I told her. I flashed on my first trauma room experience when a senior registrar and I were faced with a motorcyclist, his thigh mangled in a crash with blood spurting out everywhere. I was a student and my first day in A&amp;E. The registrar had said the same to me when he was trying to clamp off his femoral artery by hand, with his hand jammed into the man's groin. Good times.

Louisa nodded at me. "Right."

"Ready?"

"Yeah."

"Now." I pulled my hand away as she got her finger pushed down and hard, but not before a spurt of blood soaked her dress from bust to waist. She sucked in her breath but did not run; didn't even make much of a noise. Good.

I examined a length of the monofilament (fairly large in gage but it would be strong) while I explained to Louisa what was to be done. I'd make an incision to gain access to the damaged vessel, then repair it, and then close the wound. With luck - a lot - he'd survive, if not die on his own table.

I poked the thread through the needle, which was also large, but at least I've have a decent hole to pull sutures through. I could mess around. This would be quick, one way or the other.

"Need help?" she asked while I squinted at the needle under the light.

"Nope." Suture ready, I looked around. "Now need something to clamp off the artery." This place was messier than old Mr. Routledge's house, or even the trio who performed taxidermy in their living room. Horrible they gave me a dead dog as a gift. God.

I spied Louisa's veil and what held it on. "I need _that_, in your hair; the grip."

She pried it off and gave it to me. It was metal and small, the fingers curved about a half centimeter in diameter; it just might work.

I looked down at my patient who to his credit lay there motionless. The hole in his neck must be painful but he didn't flinch. I peered at him and his breathing was slow and steady. Good. "Have another bottle of whiskey? Unopened?"

He grunted. "Yeah. In the cupboard by the sink."

I unsealed the bottle and doused my hands with the amber fluid. Not as good as straight alcohol as a disinfectant, but it would do. I gave the razor blade a good shot, and then poured a dollop over his wound.

He jerked but didn't move his head. "Oh, God! Ohhh. _**God**_…." he said past gritted his teeth.

He was still alive – so far. I turned my attention to my assistant. "Now, you'll remove your hand, and I'll make the incision, and then I'll clamp off the artery."

Louisa nodded and she was breathing harder and faster. "Yes… good… do it."

"And when I've done that I'll need you to hold the clamp in place while I make the repair." I saw she was sweating and her head was shaking now. "Okay?"

"Right."

"I mean are you okay?" What a bloody way to spend a honeymoon.

"Yeah." She tossed her head in her unique way. My wife – my makeshift surgical nurse – closed her eyes briefly. "Fine."

"Right." I picked up the blade and made the incision.

Blood spurted and my wife's dress got another dose. Pity, but I now could see the artery pulsing away but my fingers unerringly followed the flow getting the clip onto it.

It held. "Hold that," I said to Louisa, then I grabbed some cloth – bugger –it's her veil! I sponged at the red mess so I could see. There it was! The carotid; and the hole in it was reachable. "I'm sorry," I told her.

"It's alright," she muttered as her slim fingers welled up with leaking blood. She gripped the clamp precisely and expertly preventing any slippage. Good girl – very good.

I got the needle in hand. "This will be over very soon, one way or the other." I tried not to look into his eyes. They were quite blue but he smelled of unwashed clothing, whiskey and cigarettes. In some way his stare reminded me of James Henry. It was a trusting look, not that this man knew me at all, but here I was patching him up. He lay there unflinching under my surgeon's hands and wonder of wonder I felt no vomit rising.

The monofilament did a fine job and I doubled the four stitches I put in. "Now… let's see if it holds…" I whisked off the metal clamp so blood could flow once more inside the vessel. I didn't see a leak. I took a breath at last.

Louisa touched my elbow and gave me a little pat.

So far so good, at least he was alive. "Now we need to get you to hospital as soon as possible. Where's the nearest house?"

He almost smiled. "There's a road just at the back. 'Bout fifteen minutes walk." He rolled his eyes at us. "Some honeymoon eh?"

Louisa smiled at me.

"Stop talking," I told him while I packed up my surgical tools in a steel tin, in case he started leaking. I put some gauze on his neck, many layers, and a loose wrap to hold it. The safety pins were useful there. If there was no thread I've have considered using them for the repair but knew it would have been a last ditch effort.

Louisa washed her hands at the sink and I followed her lead.

She whispered to me, "He gonna make it?"

I bobbed my head. "If we can get him to hospital then yes. I saw a wheelbarrow outside. We can use that."

She leaned against me. "Finest thing to happen to Portwenn since the new parkin' area at the beach, you are."

"What?"

She gave me a brilliant smile; one of Portwenn's natural beauties.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

I had never been a Girl Guide but rummaging through the caravan I felt like I was preparing for an outing. I found a bottle of water, sealed, which I latched on to and I held onto the flashlight from the lodge as well. There didn't seem to be much food about, other than a box of stale biscuits and a moldy loaf of bread, plus peanut butter.

"What are you doing?" Martin asked gruffly. "We need to get a move on."

I rolled my eyes at him as I pulled a biscuit out of the box. "Want one?"

He shook his head. "You actually want to put food in your mouth from this place?" He nodded at the grime and debris on the counters.

"But I'm hungry. That sip of champagne is long gone," I turned and stared into the dirty sink. "Along with a lot else."

He wrinkled his nose. "Hungry or not this man has been living here for a long time…"

"Ten years!" the man muttered from the table. I'd thrown a blanket over him as directed by Martin.

Martin whispered, "And I'll wager his use of soap has been infrequent." He inspected the biscuit in my hand. "Best not," he said and left me standing there.

Martin was right. We'd both need tetanus shots after all this. I sighed and dropped the biscuit back in the box. "_Fine_ then."

Martin was inspecting his patient. "Any dizziness?"

"No. But my neck is hurting."

Martin peeked under the bandage. "No active bleeding. That's good."

I smiled at my husband for despite his phobia he'd held up. "I'm Louisa, Louisa Ellingham, Mrs.," I introduced myself to the farmer.

"Hello, luv," he answered me softly. "You're the bride, right? Sorry about… the… uhm… _gun_ and all."

"Hush. No matter," I said to him. "And you are?"

Martin checked his watch. "How far is this road?"

"Fifteen minute walk," the farmer said. "Bellamy – last name. Rex Bellamy."

I smiled at him and touched his shoulder. "Nice to meet you."

He winked at me. "Sure."

"The nearest house?" Martin asked.

"Mr. Bellamy, this is my husband, Dr. Martin Ellingham," I said ignoring Martin's words but I tipped my head at the old man, telling Martin to reply.

Martin nodded. "Right, we've met, now Mr. Bellamy, the nearest house?"

Mr. Bellamy blinked slowly. "Nobody lives out here. Just me and Edna."

"No neighbors?" I asked him.

"Nope. Nearest real house is way over other side of Brown Willy. You asked about a road."

Martin sighed. "We'll have to get along. You do need care."

Bellamy closed his eyes and I saw tears flow.

"Oh…." What did this man have? Was he frightened? "Mr. Bellamy, you'll be okay."

He opened his eyes and blinked the tears away. "I just like bein' alone is all."

I glanced at Martin waiting for a show of support. He looked at me and squared his shoulders. "You'll be taken care of in hospital. I'll got out and get that wheelbarrow."

Martin left and the room grew quiet.

"Honeymoon," Mr. Bellamy said.

I grinned. "One for the books."

He looked at my dress, all muddy and bloody.

"That were a pretty dress. Bloody shame."

"Thanks."

The door opened and Martin stuck his head inside. "Got the barrow and some sacking for padding. Bring that blanket out would you?"

I asked Mr. Bellamy, "Do you have another in the house?"

Bellamy almost laughed. "No. Just the one."

I took the blanket off him and gave it to Martin, rubbing my arms in the chill night air. It looked like the fog might be lifting.

Martin folded the blanket in half and laid it in the barrow. "We can fold it under him then pull it up over him to keep hi warm. I'm concerned about shock."

I looked at the tiny watch on my wrist. "How can be half three?"

"Time flies," Martin replied. "Can I have you help to get him out here?"

"Of course – whatever you say." I'd said that to him in the lodge, oh so many hours ago. I had so wanted him right then; more than at any moment I desired him body and soul.

Martin sighed.

"You're tired."

He nodded. "Rather like being a registrar. Up at all hours. A thirty-six hour shift was not that unusual in training."

I smiled at him. "First time you ever operated on a kitchen table, I'll bet."

"Yes. Now let's get him out here, if you're strong enough."

"The sooner we start the sooner we finish."

We got Mr. Bellamy outside and into the barrow, wrapped in a blanket. Martin took the handles and lifted it. "Not too bad," he grunted. "Louisa can you hold the light? Got it? Good. And clear away anything in our path that might foul the wheel?"

In short order we got Mr. Bellamy outside, his dog tagging along. He looked quite sad, the dog I mean.

Bellamy snagged my arm. "Luv, can you put Edna in the house?"

"Sure." Though I was unused to this dog, I got her to go in the house. I closed the door on her after making sure she had water and food.

Outside Martin had arranged the blanket over Mr. Bellamy who had to lie in the barrow on his back, legs dangling off one end and his shoulders and head the other.

"Should'a bought a longer barrow," Bellamy muttered as he tried to adjust how he was laying. "Course, I _found_ this one."

Martin peered at me curiously. "Got the light?"

I showed the torch to him. "Lead on Macduff."

Bellamy laughed then groaned. "Ain't had much schoolin' but that's from Hamlet."

Martin cleared his throat as he lifted the wheelbarrow and began to push it. "_Macbeth_ actually and the line is 'lay on, Macduff.' A very common misquote."

Bellamy laughed then groaned. "Oh, didn't know that." He regarded Martin. "Get a move on there, Doc Ellingham. My endorphins are long gone."

Martin began to push the wheelbarrow faster.

Thus began the next phase of our journey, for the fifteen minute walk was more like forty-five minutes according to Martin's watch. Past the edge of the forest we found a road. In this part of country it was a road but it was really a rough track.

Martin set the barrow down and looked both ways. "Which, uhm, way ought we to go?"

Bellamy pointed to his right. "Main road's that'a way."

"Is there a house nearby?" I said.

Bellamy stared at me. "I live out here because I _like_ it; far from anyone. No luv, no houses near."

"How far then?" grumbled Martin who was flexing his hands which must be sore. He took a drink from the water bottle after inspecting the cap, and then twisted it breaking the seal. He drank thirstily.

He gave me some so I offered it to Mr. Bellamy.

Martin objected. "No! Louisa, no water for him. He may need further surgery!"

I rolled my eyes at my husband. "Sorry Mr. Bellamy."

He scowled back. "More cuttin' and sewin'?"

Martin rolled his shoulders and flexed his arms. "Perhaps. I've only repaired your torn artery. The outer incision will have to be cleaned and stitched so no water."

Bellamy turned to me. "He always talk like this?"

He patted Martin's arm. "Not always."

Much later we left the forest behind and got to the main part of the moor. Only gorse and heather grew her, but we could follow the gravel road easily. After another hour the sky started to grow lighter, measurably and I was never so glad to see real shapes in the distance. Rough Tor and Brown Willy were ahead to either side of the road.

In a bit we crossed what must be the De Lank River and far away I spied a few rough laid stone walls. It wasn't civilization but at least we were making progress.

Martin peered around from time to time.

"What?" I asked.

He just shook his head. "Nothing."

"Well what?"

He looked down at Bellamy who seemed to be asleep. "This man…"

"Mr. Bellamy."

"Right; he… really must be a hermit."

"His way."

Martin sniffed. "Rather like Stewart James, except Stewart bathes."

Another five hundred steps behind us and now it now became much brighter.

Martin looked at me long and hard. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"It's not exactly the sort of day you'd hoped for."

That said a lot. "Well certainly not one we'll forget, is it?"

Martin paused before he asked, "Which bit are you looking forward to remembering the most? Getting lost? Held at gunpoint? Or, uhm, watching this man exsanguinate?"

I had to smile at that. "I think probably all of that. " Yes it was horrible, but the root of it was we were married, I was married to him, and him to me.

"I see."

I took his arm and gave him a big grin. Yes, all of it. Even our arguments, the kerfuffle over whether it was a wood or a forest (forest I still thought) , my aching feet, full bladder, empty stomach, extinguishing a fire with champagne. It would be a comedy but it was our honeymoon. The only thing missing was a bedroom romp. I was too tired for much fun in that department, but… I loved Martin and we were married – married at long last. For better or for worse, all that; it was true.

Poor Martin was staggering with fatigue. The man had to carry me a cross a stream, he rolled down a hill, was threatened both by Bellamy and me. I suggested taking a turn at the barrow but Martin was adamant in his refusal. So we walked along in silence, our tired feet crunching along, until I heard a motor approaching. "Martin, Martin! Listen!"

Salvation came by way of a large lorry, which stopped when we waved. The driver opened his door. "Wot the hell are you two… uhm, three," he corrected himself, "up to?" His eyes bugged at the blood all over my dress. "All that blood!"

"We need help," I explained. "We got lost…"

Martin butted in. "This man needs immediate medical attention. Does you mobile work? Or do you have a radio?"

The man climbed down, his huge arms bulging under his flannel jacket. He scratched his head as he took it all in. "So you're?"

"On our honeymoon," I said.

He shook his head. "Must'a been a helluva party… pardon, ma'am."

"Radio?" Martin suggested.

The driver shook himself. "Right." He got back into the rig and spoke into a microphone.

It took an hour but an ambulance arrived along with a patrol car.

They bundled up Mr. Bellamy and took long hard looks at the two of us. "You're not injured in any way?"

"We're fine," Martin told the medic who shook his head in amazement.

"Just a bit tired and dirty, then?"

I smiled at him. "Right. Mr. Bellamy?"

"Yes, luv?"

"They'll take good care of you."

He sighed. "Thanks for the trip, Doc, and the patchin' up. But you're a right tosser mendin' chicken coops." He turned his head a fraction and winked at me. "Your weddin' day."

They closed the door and the ambulance left.

The policeman finished taking our statements and then asked, "Suppose you want a ride somewhere?"

Martin's mouth gaped in annoyance so I stepped in. "Home would be good, yes."

The cop looked at his pad. "Portwenn?"

"That's right and quick as you can," Martin replied. "You can imagine we're a bit tired."

In the back of the police vehicle, I held Martin's hand all the way home.

**Notes:**

**The name of the mad farmer is never said in the episode, but in the credits he is "Bellamy." The name made me think of Ralph Bellamy an American actor. Ralph Bellamy's middle name was Rexford, thereby giving me a first name for this character in DM.**


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

It was a long ride back to the village, but I hardly noticed since I was so tired. I was more than grateful to be able to sit down and not move. The ambulance staff had given our hands and faces a rough wash-up, since we were contaminated with blood and other effluvia, but I watched with an exhausted disinterest as dirt from our clothing transferred to the seat cushions of the police vehicle. The officer gave us an energy bar from his own pocket for us to share plus a bottle of water from the boot. It was a morsel of a meal, but it gave us some energy.

"Portwenn? So you know Joe Penhale," the policeman said. "And Stewart James as well."

"Right, we do." Louisa was the chatty one that morning which I found amazing considering our exertions. She was quite noisy with the emergency personnel explaining what had happened to us and why. Mercifully for me she had glossed over the lodge fire and taking a wrong turn. "Known Joe for years and Stewart too."

"Tell Joe that officer Jack Taylor says hi." The man grinned at us in the rear-view mirror. "We trained together in Falmouth. Now I'm over in Bodmin." He squinted at us from his rear-view mirror. "I see Stewart out here sometimes. He likes to go trekking."

"Sure," Louisa told him as she took my hand, rubbing it gently. When her gentle touch faded to motionless, I glanced over and found her asleep, so I put my arm around her to support her head and neck to keep it from jouncing as we rode along the rough road. She stirred but did not quite wake as the car bottomed out in places, for the local council had done a poor job of road repair.

Officer Taylor grunted. "That's quite a story you was tellin' me."

I was not happy he was speaking, fearing he'd wake up Louisa, so I shushed him.

"Sorry," he whispered. "A story for your kids someday."

I curled my lip. Louisa said she'd remember all of it, while I was hoping to suppress most of it. If only I'd properly understood the working of a damper! That put paid to any plans we might have had for a quiet and enjoyable evening. I added dampers to my list of things to research.

Then I peeked at my bride taking in her breath-taking beauty in spite of her disheveled appearance. A quiet night? Not bloody likely given her desire to engage in relations frequently since James Henry's kidnapping. Well, Ellingham, didn't you have thoughts along those lines as well? I sighed at lost opportunities.

"Bet you're exhausted," the cop observed.

"Really?"

He laughed quietly. "So where was this lodge? From your description it's beyond Hades and gone."

"It was," I told him. "Far away," I muttered and my aching body gave me some idea of just how far we had traveled, although no doubt a lot of it was in less than a straight line.

The lodge was acceptable, more than just acceptable, if only… I looked Louisa over while she dozed. She had such high hopes for yesterday and I'd had a big part in bollixing those dreams up.

Yet if Bert and the other village idiots had not hatched their plan we'd have been safe and sound at home! A honeymoon trip? Bugger. I looked at Louisa's peaceful smudged face. She'd wanted a honeymoon and I did not. It had led to a real row out there in the wood fording that icy river. Perhaps Spain might be satisfactory at some point in future. Maybe by that time our awful memories might fade.

"Yes," I said softly. "Past a dense wood and a river." Despite Louisa's insistence I knew it was a wood.

The officer nodded. "And Rexford Bellamy? He's sort of a legend out that way north of the main moor. Keeps to himself. A bit bonkers to boot. Keeps a dog and a horse. But you should see the root vegetables he grows. Man has a green thumb."

"Yes," I grunted, "we met both dog and horse, unfortunately."

The officer considered me from the mirror. "Your missus is all tuckered out."

I sighed. "Yes she is."

The cop added, "Pretty dress, but oh my gosh all that blood! And your suit looks ready for the refuse bin!" he shook his head. "You said Bellamy was bleeding out?"

I nodded. "The man was injured by debris from a fallen porch roof."

The cop nodded. "I don't know how you did it – I mean patched him up. When I was in the Royal Air Force I seen a few accidents and it was messy. We were loading cargo and a crate fell. Ugly. But our medics got right to it; on the tarmac right there and saved the bloke's life and his arm. Most us lot were trying not to puke at the sight."

"A doctor does what he must do," I answered.

His eyes looked hard at me from the mirror. "Then you're a right handy fellow to have about."

"Humph." I try to be, yet it was me who'd caused Bellamy's injury. But why was his fool mongrel underfoot?

I turned my head and found Louisa's open grey-blue eyes watching at me.

"What?"

A slow smile came to her lips. "Sorta'."

"Sort of what?"

Her cool fingers squeezed mine. "_Handy_ – but you need to work on your _caveman_ skills."

Hearing that I wisely I kept my lips clamped together, wondering what she meant by that. Oh building fires, right. Well I did build a fire; it just got out of hand.

Soon enough we could smell the sea and we passed the sign marking the border of Portwenn.

"Martin!" Louisa nearly shouted when we got to door after the office dropped us at the house.

"Yes?"

"I just realized I left my mobile at the lodge!"

I sighed. "Bugger."

"We'll have to drive out there and get it."

All I wanted was a hot shower a meal and about eight hours of uninterrupted sleep but clearly we would have a busy day, and no sleep on top of it, plus minding James. I pushed open our kitchen door and saw my aunt lying on the sofa, and I hoped she was merely sleeping, for she was no spring chicken. I took her pulse and felt the slow yet steady thump of her heart. "Mm. She's asleep."

Louisa sighed deeply. "So…" She looked at me and I saw a smile form on her pretty face.

"Louisa…" I was saying when the back door flew open to expose Bert and Al Large carrying our suitcases.

Bert was telling Al, "We'll put the luggage here Al and then we can shift the blame on Morwenna." He startled when he saw us. "Doc?"

Louisa told them, "It's _okay_ Bert, it's not _our_ blood. We're _fine_."

That woke up my aunt and she sprang upright. "What on earth? Oh, my God!" she said in shock for we were less than presentable. Something from a Gothic horror tale, no doubt, not that I ever read any of that trash.

I tried to relieve Ruth by telling her, "We're fine, it's not our blood."

"How's James Henry?" Louisa asked her.

"He was teething, but you're _covered_ in dirt! And whose blood is it?" Ruth answered.

"It's not important…" I was cut off by Penhale's voice.

"I heard a noise," our fool cop said as if to explain why he'd barged into the house from the front. Joe froze when he saw us. "Oh Doc!" He stood there his fool mouth hanging open.

"Not their blood Joe," Al told him.

"_Allegedly_," Bert added.

Penhale held out his hands. "Okay, _whatever_ happened we can _fix_ it. People go missing _all_ the time."

Louisa ignored him, asking Ruth, "Any problems with James? Is he okay?"

In a flash the kitchen had become at least a three-ring if not greater, circus, while we were pelted by questions, concerns, and comments. My ears picked up Ruth asking about dirt and blood, Bert and Al protesting about how it was really funny that they'd forgotten our cases and oh please don't say we'd damaged the lodge while Penhale prattled away about missing persons and how reports could get lost and stay that way.

A not so muffled scream was injected into the aural mayhem by a patient stumbling in from the hall, holding his right eye and shouting about getting ash in his eye and being blinded. I'd had a corneal abrasion once, which this likely was. I was sure he was in great pain; like an icepick through the head was my experience, but not blinded permanently as the living cells of the cornea (the only ones exposed on the human body) heal extremely quickly, as they must.

Instinctively I turned to Louisa and we had a private conversation.

Louisa gave me a little grin. "Right, I'm gonna check on James."

I pointed to my newest patient. "And I'll see to this idiot." I looked at Louisa tenderly and there was so much I wanted to say to her, but this was neither time nor place.

My late aunt's dog, Dagget or Dodger, or whatever his name was, ran in from our back garden barking, adding to the din.

Perhaps when we were alone in the wood it was better for us, certainly quieter, for directly upon returning home we were thrown into the mess of village life. Portwenn – biscuit-tin town in the back of beyond – is in a constant whirl of disease, discord, and disorder.

"Right go through to the consulting room," I told the man who was clutching his right eye, where he was bent over in pain.

Penhale made as if to follow me.

"Not you! And get rid of that dog!"

I followed the stumbling patient into my surgery while I heard that blame dog barking like mad.

I muttered to myself for things were just the same. Intrusive villagers, bizarre ailments, and emergencies at all hours. I thoroughly disinfected my hands after I shucked out of my filthy coat and was drying my hands when it hit me. The ring on the fourth finger of my left hand shone brightly through the running water. That was different; a wedding band, for I was married - to Louisa.

"Doc! Can you hurry? I'm dyin' over here!" the patient yelled.

I turned. "Shut up and sit on the examining table!" No, I was wrong for nothing had changed.

000

I watched as Martin left with his emergency. Poor Martin – never a quiet moment. I turned to Ruth. "Is he alright?"

She answered. "Teething, again, pretty sure."

"What? Oh no! Poor James."

"Little bugger was fretful but I had some help from the electrician."

"What? Who?"

"Long story. Let's go up and see to him."

I rubbed my arms. "The house is cold! Did you put an extra blanket on his bed?"

"Yes dear." She followed me up the stair.

"And how hard was he crying?"

"Oh quite a lot."

We got to his room and James was stretching out arms and legs, still curled in a cute little ball under his yellow blankets. "Oh there's my boy!" He gave me a big smile and started babbling.

I held out my arms to pick him up but Ruth stopped me.

"Dear, do you actually want to pick up your son? Looking like that?" She wrinkled her nose.

I looked down at the wreck of my dress. "Perhaps not."

Ruth sat James up then picked him up. "Look, I'll change him and get some food into him. You go clean up – get out of that filthy dress! Looks to me a hot bath, a good meal, and a long nap are in order for you my girl. Then you can tell me all about it."

I hung my head. All about it? All of it? Martin messing up the fire, getting us lost, yelling Bellamy? How much to edit out? How much to suppress? And how many things to just forget? I sighed. "Maybe you're right."

Ruth bounced James on her hip while he rubbed his eyes and chewed on his purple dinosaur. "Go. Now. Come James. Let's fix that nappy and get some oatmeal for you and maybe some strained pears? Hmm?"

I let out the breath I had been holding since yesterday. Oh I knew that Ruth could easily take care of my son for one night, but to see him smile when he saw me told me that James knew _I_ was his mum.

I sagged against the wall for a moment.

"You alright, Louisa?" Ruth asked.

"Yeah," I yawned. "Just knackered."

Ruth rolled her eyes. "To the bath and clean girl. When you're clean come downstairs and I'll have some breakfast ready, unless you'd rather sleep."

That set me yawning once more. "Right."

"_Some_ honeymoon, looks like," Ruth added. "Oh _good_," she was bending over James on the changing table. "A nice messy one!"

I escaped to the bedroom to care for myself. Downstairs I heard Buddy stop barking followed by the closing of the back door. Home – I was home! Yay! Home _sweet_ home.

I picked up my dressing gown, got clean knickers from the dresser, and then went into the bath to clean up from our honeymoon trip.

Then from downstairs I heard from Martin bellowing at both Penhale and the patient.

Right – too right – home at last and as I heard Martin yelling I ruefully shook my head for things were back to normal.

No, I was wrong, for my wedding ring reminded me that something _very_ important had changed. I was _married_ \- to Martin - and things would never be the same. I smiled at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. "Married? Wow, now _that's_ different."


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

The bath was lovely for with plenty of bubble bath and a good scrub I felt like more than just dirt had been washed away. A lot of my fatigue and disappointment seemed to go with the dirt down the drain.

Hearing various bumps and thumps words, I could tell that Ruth had taken James down and was fixing his breakfast. In a short while I heard heavy footsteps come clumping upstairs and from a couple of choice words and grunts knew that Martin was stripping out of his soiled suit.

Soon there came a knock on the bathroom door. "Louisa?"

I was just out of the bath and wrapping in a towel. Martin had spoken about redoing the bathroom to include a shower stall, or at least incorporate one over the tub, but in the mean time I didn't mind washing both body and hair in the tub. "Yes?"

"Uhm…" he was saying as I opened the door. I'd wrapped a hand towel about my wet hair and with the towel around me I was covered. He stood there in boxers and vest, braces** holding up his soiled socks. I didn't know how many men anymore who wore old fashioned braces but my husband did. I sensed that he dressed much as his grandfather might have.

His eyes flicked away when he saw me. "Ah, you've bathed."

"I have."

His attention was diverted by my crumpled dress on the floor. "Your dress; it's ruined."

I shrugged and kicked at it. "Fit for the bin." He bent down and picking it up, shoved my poor white dress into a red plastic bag.

"That's what you use for medical waste," I observed.

He shrugged.

"Oh, right; all that blood." As I said it I saw his mouth twitch. "Might be for the best. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Sure?" I noticed a sheen of sweat appear on his face but also that he had a huge bruise on his left wrist so I took it in my hands. "Oh, dear. You _did_ get hurt."

Again came a shrug. "Nothing."

Looking down I saw his knees were abraded as well. "And rolled down a hill."

"More fell."

"Paracetamols and ice?"

"My aunt is feeding James and will cook breakfast for us when we are ready for it."

I nodded. "Good. Famished."

He tied up the neck of the bag and dropped it on the floor. "I'll wash and shave."

We stood there inches apart, me holding his hurt hand, so I kissed his grimy cheek. "Husband."

"Louisa… I'm all filthy."

"Doesn't matter." I smiled and kissed him deeply, pressing against him. "You're fine just the way you are."

Our kiss got longer and longer and one thing led to another stopped only by Martin's protests that he was dirty and I was clean. Sighing I let him go and retrieved the bath towel which had slithered to the floor during our clinch.

I saw him watching me from the corner of his eye as I rewound the towel around myself. It's okay, Martin, you can look, I thought, but he was always shy. Almost always; even in bed in the dark. But when he got going… well that's my story to keep.

I left him to his wash-up, so after drying my hair and dressing I went to the kitchen. Ruth was holding James on her lap and he gave me a huge smile when he saw me.

I scooped him from her arms and from the expression she gave me I think she was relieved. "Hello, big boy!" I nuzzled his face and he laughed. "Ruth thanks soooo much for watching him." My son smelled like young warm skin, baby shampoo, and clean clothes; heavenly.

Ruth nodded, her face giving me her trademark crooked smile. "Now, tell me about it; the blood, the dirt… all that. You two looked like war refugees. Whatever happened?"

"Felt like it. Could I have some juice?" I sat down gratefully, still holding James. I yawned. "Very tired."

She put a large plate of fried eggs, bacon, grilled tomato, and toast on the table before me. "Now et up, dear. But you have to tell all."

"Where to begin?" James started squirming so I put him on the floor and he started scooting about playing with a stacking toy from the bin in the corner. "Right. The lodge was, you knew that, was lovely. I'm sure Bert told you all about it. But the fireplace was blocked up and the place filled up with smoke. It was awful. We couldn't stay there and had no mobile signal so we couldn't call Bert to get us. We had to use shank's mare* to find help."

Ruth looked at me over the rim of her teacup. "Looked to me a murder was committed along the way."

Well hadn't I felt like killing Martin? "Nooo. But we did get lost in the forest, and after blundering around for God knows how long we finally found a house; sort of a house. There was this old man living there all alone; a hermit really. He had no phone either and then he got hurt. That's where the blood came from."

Ruth shook her head but was nearly chuckling. "Quite the honeymoon, eh?"

I lowered my voice and whispering told her about Martin having to perform emergency surgery.

She smiled sorrowfully. "Good Lord. Saved the man's life, you say?"

I stuffed crunchy bacon into my face and it tasted so good. "Yep. Then we had to get him to hospital. We used his wheelbarrow to carry him. Finally, early this morning, out on the moor we came across a lorry who had radio reception and he called for an ambulance. A policeman brought us back to the village."

Ruth stared at me and after long silent moments said, "Poor things. What a _horror_."

"Yeah, Gothic almost. Fog, dark, eerie sounds. Do you know if when Martin was a boy, did he take fright from a horse?"

"Horse? I've no idea. Why'd you ask? Joanie would have known."

I slathered a toast soldier with blackberry jam and bit into it. "Just wondered."

Ruth watched me as I polished off my breakfast. "Want more?"

I ducked my head. "Can I?"

"_May _I," she corrected. "Plenty left." Martin came in just then looking very presentable, but for no tie or coat; but the dress shirt and suit trousers were his usual wear.

I'd put on a simple top, jeans and my trainers. Quite the step for Martin to go tie-less as he was always so formal. I gave him a grin and once or twice he nearly smiled back.

"More bacon then and toast? May I?" I asked sheepishly, for Martin still kept an eye over what we ate, and how much.

Ruth refilled my plate then handed Martin a similar dish, but with eggs.

He slumped down across from me and stared into space for a moment, then picked up his fork. "Ruth," Martin muttered then began to methodically eat his meal.

Aunt Ruth rolled her eyes. "I understand that you two had quite the adventure."

"Uhm, yes. It was…" he started.

I butted in. "As I said Ruth it was stressful, yes." I didn't want Martin to go off about what a fool idea the honeymoon trip was. He'd said as much several times during our wanderings. I yawned. "We'll have to drive out there later. My mobile…"

He looked at me and the lines around his mouth relaxed a little. "We… got… through it," he muttered.

His aunt patted his shoulder. "At least you're home now."

Martin coughed. "Louisa, as I was finishing up with the eye case, Al Large stuck his head in and said he and Bert would be going to the lodge to clean it up. Bert's terribly afraid of a damage charge. So I asked him to find your handbag and mobile."

"Oh? Well..." I bit into another piece of toast, my fourth. "That will take them a while."

Martin sniffed. "Likely. Bert will also bring a cake over later, seeing as we skipped the wedding cake." He scowled. "Fool Bert, taking our luggage with him!"

I held up my hand. "It's okay, Martin."

He frowned.

"They meant well, nephew," Ruth added.

I was starting to yawn again.

Ruth bustled about the room, putting things into James' pushchair.

"Ruth?"

The old woman smiled. "You two must be knocked out. I'll take James for a stroll, right? About the time he needs a feed I can take him up to my place." She peered at us wide-eyed. "That alright?"

I said, "You don't have to."

She smiled. "Dear it's not about having to; it's _wanting_ to." Ruth gave me a quick hug then scooped up James. "Come great-nephew. Let's leave your _married_ parents alone for a few hours." She took up his nappy bag, grabbed a bag of toys, rummaged about in the fridge, and packing child and gear on the pushchair was gone in a flash.

Martin closed the door behind her. "That was quick. Strange. Ruth isn't usually so… uhm, _handy_ or helpful with our son."

"She wanted to do something nice."

"Louisa, we are perfectly capable of taking care of…." He stopped I suppose from the look I gave him. "What?"

I wiped my mouth, rose, and crossed the room. Putting my arms around him, I pushed him back against the counter, and looked him right in the eye. "Hullo."

"Hello."

"Husband."

"Wife." We stood there like that for a few seconds then he ducked his head. "What's this about?"

I kissed him deeply then broke our lip lock, and taking his hand, took him upstairs. When we got to our bedroom, I held out my hand. "Mobile."

"Oh." He handed me his mobile from off the dresser.

"Did you lock the door?"

He nodded. "Oddly enough I did."

I peered at his mobile for a few seconds then turned the ringer off. I put the thing down and then smiled at him. "Just you and me. Sunday. Surgery is closed."

His arms went around my waist. "I… uhm, _see_."

"Do you?"

His answer was an amazing kiss. As he drew me down next to him on our bed, I just hoped day two of our marriage would go better than the first day had.

An old saying popped into my head as his hands slid under my blouse while I buried my face in the folds of his neck.

_Hope _sees_ the invisible, feels the intangible and achieves the impossible. _

Perhaps it was time for hopes to come true. I certainly prayed they might. High time.

**Author's Notes**

**-*- Above I have replaced 'knickers' with 'boxers' since a reviewer pointed out that knickers are ladies' things. I am quite certain Martin would wear boxers!**

*** Shank's mare – Walking instead of riding. ( Have just been informed Shank's mare is the American way of saying Shank's pony - the British way. Oops! )  
**

**** Braces – Used to hold up men's socks; a rather old fashioned men's wear accessory. An elastic loop circles the calf of the leg below the knee and a clip is attached to the sock to prevent it from sliding down.**


	15. Chapter 15

**If you have not seen Doc Martin Series 6 – Episodes 2 through 8, then stop reading!**

**If you have seen all the latest Doc Martin TV tales, then press on, dear reader.**

**And also if you want a teeny look into what this writer thinks might happen after the end of S6 - E8, then read my story "Eight." Not saying you need to read that, but this bit follows "Eight."**

Chapter 15 – It's About Time - An Epilog

"It's our two week anniversary tomorrow."

"What is?" I asked, trying to not move my hands unsuitably as I was trying to remove a tiny pin from the clock on my desk and if I twisted it off in the hole, all would be lost.

Louisa responded, "Our wedding anniversary; it's two weeks, tomorrow."

"Well it's not an anniversary then is it? It's two weeks." I went back to explaining to her how the striker of the clock I was repairing needed repair, but when I looked at her to see if she was following me she'd gone.

I finished fitting the new pin into the backplate then packed away both tools and clock. I found Louisa sitting on our bed wiping her eyes with a tissue. She startled when I entered the room. "Problem?" I inquired.

Her back went bolt upright. "_No_," came out of her in a frosty tone.

"There must be something wrong."

She looked away from me and then stared at the wall for long seconds. "I'm tired. I'm going to bed." She sprang up and rushed into the bathroom, closing the door firmly behind her.

I'd hurt her by being obtuse. That night, if I had to draw a line in the sand, was where I actually started to slide downhill. That scene was repeated any number of times over the next months. She'd say something or do something around me and then I would make some utterance, or an ill-timed gesture, and she'd wince; lips tightening and a dense silence would fall between us like a cast-iron curtain.

I just kept shutting down until after too many hurts and injuries I drove her away.

It was only by a leap of desperation, and advice from my Aunt Ruth, along with emergency surgery after a car accident, that were we able to get help. Me mostly, but Louisa had her own devils to overcome.

000

I thought these things over while I waited for her to emerge after her appointment. When I saw her turn the corner, and glide down the hall blessing me with a smile I knew things were okay; for the moment.

Much had changed since the last year and not just the calendar. I had changed and Louisa had changed as well. Some of our scars would fade but never disappear, like the one under her right clavicle, where I performed her cerebral embolization.

She had a word with the desk clerk then taking my hand, we walked slowly out to the car. "Alright?" I asked, using the Cornish shorthand for 'are you alright?'

She nodded while she did up her seat harness. "Fine." She squirmed in her seat, fitting the belt properly as I'd taught her to. "Fine, yes. All good. A _proper_ job."

_Proper job._ What was proper? The seat belt? The seat on which she sat? Her doctor's appointment? Perhaps dreckly, as they all said in Cornish English I'd puzzle it out or maybe never.

I had no idea what she meant by the last so I did not reply. Many Cornish phrases found me at sea. More than once Louisa barged into the house from her school, dropped her things on the table and said, "Teasy."

Then I knew she was put off about something; hopefully not with me.

She went on, "_Jumpy_, really. My parents are cakey."

Another one. Jumpy? Not as in jumping jacks, but bothered? Cakey? Never could get that but I might infer she meant barmy. She must be saying that some of the school parents were barmy or bothersome.

She whirled her head and looked at me. "Not my fault they ship their _heller_ to me."

That one I got. Heller – as in hell-raiser.

I would nod. "Perhaps after dinner you will want to discuss it?"

Her face would soften then she would nod and smile slightly. "Sure. I'd like that."

So part of our hard won routine was to relax at table for a few minutes while James toddled about the room and we'd compare our days. They weren't all complaint fests – more so an airing of personal frustrations. This was part of our therapy and we still put it to good use.

I drove us from the medical complex but at the roundabout, I took the second turning and not the first.

"Martin? Where are you going?" she asked.

I squeezed the wheel tightly. "Uhm… a different way home."

"Oh."

Silence fell for a while, until she said, "Where _are_ we going?"

"Close your eyes."

"What?"

Helen, our therapist and marriage counselor, had impressed upon me several things and one was to use the element of surprise. I had spoken to her two weeks ago and with thumping and jumpy heart told her of my plans.

She laughed at me from my mobile. "Oh my word."

"Uhm… perhaps it's too…"

"No, Martin. Oh _heavens_, I'm quite sure Louisa will enjoy that."

I sighed.

"Problem?" Helen asked.

"No," I snapped. "Dr. Entwhistle is this too much?"

"Please, Martin, call me Helen. You _must_ after all we've gone through. And no, I think it's perfect."

I winced. Yes she knew far more about us than most ever would. "Fine, Helen. So you don't think this is… all… too overdone?"

She laughed. "Martin _you_ have changed so much. I'm proud of you; both of you. But I think your plan is a good one. Chock full of good ideas."

Dare I tell the woman the germ of the idea came from my receptionist? The girl cornered me one afternoon and I was not pleased.

"Doc? A word?" Morwenna asked closing the surgery door behind her.

"Yes?" I snapped as I looked at my watch. "Surgery is closed so I certainly hope the entire fisherman's fleet is not squatting on the doorstep with chapped hands, runny noses, and the lurky!"

Morwenna laughed. "You made a joke."

I hesitated. "Perhaps."

She punched me in the arm, but lightly. "Good 'un Doc. No, it's, well I was wonderin' if you were gonna do something special in two weeks' time."

I wrinkled my nose. "I… uh, not sure?"

Morwenna peered at me while batting her lashes. "Every woman wants to celebrate special times. You know." She sighed. "And all things considered… you really should do… oh, I don't know. Last time weren't no picnic, was it?"

I sighed for Louisa had been telling the girl tales.

Like James' birthday. The party was huge, sprawling, boozy, and crowded. I felt very bewildered by it all at that time. I squared my shoulders and shook my head. "Morwenna, just what are you saying? Has Louisa been talking to you?"

"A little bit." She smiled. "I was thinkin', well me and Al… and Ruth too. If you wanted to take Louisa somewhere special that weekend, we could mind James. I'm sure your nanny would help out as well, if you ask her."

I shook my head.

Morwenna went on eagerly. "A night away, or two nights even? Like Friday and Saturday? You could have a party; your _own_, I mean." Her eyes twinkled.

I waved her away.

She smiled. "And…," she pointed at the printout in her hand with my schedule two weeks ahead. "Look. Right here. _This_ Friday… see? _You_ blocked out the afternoon. Driving Louisa into Truro? Right?"

"Let me see." I scanned the sheet. Yes that Sunday was our one year date. "Uhm, yes."

Now she was grinning ear to ear. "You two could, you know? Go away? Be a damn sight better than last year. Am I right?"

That set the matter into my mind and I couldn't get it out. Eventually I spoke to Chris Parsons about it and he told me about places he and his wife had gone for their numerous anniversaries. Every memory he spat out involved food, wine, sometimes going away for a weekend, and so forth. "And _flowers_, Mart. You'll need flowers." He winked. "A lot."

000

Louisa looked at me from across the car. "Close my eyes?"

"Please. Just do as I ask."

Her mouth fell open.

"Just… please do this, Louisa."

"Okay. Just hope we don't run into traffic."

I didn't know if she meant vehicular traffic, or cows (traffic – another Cornish saying) on the road, which was common in the country.

"I hope it's not far for I have to wee," she chuckled. "A bit."

I sighed. "Not much longer." I'd made this trip surreptitiously last week so I didn't need the satnav blasting away with instructions which would spoil the suspense.

Eventually the tyres crunched over gravel and turf. "Nearly there."

"So, Martin just where are we?" she asked. By now she had her hands over her face, head thrown back against the headrest. "Can I look now?"

I undid my harness. "Not just yet. Stay right there." I slid from the car. "Just… give me a minute."

"Well hurry, I'm about to burst. Wee that is, not…"

"Yes, yes."

I opened the boot and pulled out what I'd packed away. It took two trips to carry it all, but I made quick work of arranging the items. I looked around, nodding to myself, that perhaps… just perhaps… I might have got it…

"MaR-TIN!" Louisa was yelling from the car.

"Coming, coming!" I ran out and opened the car door. "Not peeking are you?" I unbuckled her seat harness.

"_God_, no. But I'm all turned around. Where are we? For all I know…"

"Just, take my hands, don't look, uhm, just yet, and stand up. Watch your head. There's a divot just there, by your left foot. Watch it. Shift my way. Good."

"Alright," she whined.

I shuffled her forward then closed the car door. "Now. You may open your eyes."

She gasped. "Oh, no, you _didn't_." She put her hand on my arm. "We're back?"

The honeymoon lodge sat before us like a brooding gray monument.

Louisa stared at me then. "And now just what?"

"Look, the _first_ time we were here, well… things didn't go very well."

"Martin?"

"It's all taken care of. James is with Morwenna and the nanny tonight and tomorrow."

Her eyes bugged out. "So we're to stay here?"

"If… you want to." My enthusiasm for this plan had been falling steadily and now I felt it was all rubbish. "We can always go home… if you wish."

She grimaced briefly. "Perhaps we might go in for old times' sake; just for a minute."

"Ah, yes. Shall we go inside then?"

She rolled her eyes. "Fine."

We climbed he steps to the porch and I gave her the key.

She looked up. "You _did_ bring us a change of clothing?"

I shrugged. I had, of course, plus toothbrushes.

She pushed open the door and squared her shoulders. "I didn't think we'd ever come back here."

"Things… change," I muttered.

I'd left the lights off, but had lit the candles around the room. A hamper of food and a small bottle of champagne sat on the table. Our overnight cases I'd put to the side, and the two dozen white roses recommended by Chris were in a large crystal vase on the table.

"Oh. My…" Louisa held a hand to her mouth. "You _didn't_." She looked around the room.

I shrugged. "The chimney has been cleaned and repaired and _yes_ the fireplace damper works."

She started to laugh and that put my back up, but she stopped and wiped her face. "Sorry, Martin." She toured the room. "Oh, the flowers, you bought _roses_."

"Obviously."

She touched one. "Some of these are paper."

"I understand it is traditional that first anniversary gifts ought to be paper."

She shook her head, a sad look on her face. "I suppose I might have a sip of champagne. Wouldn't hurt."

"That would be fine. No harm."

"All that's missing is my wedding dress, not that I could wear it."

I picked up the gift box on the sofa. "You might open this."

"MaR-TIN?"

"Just…" I waved my hand. "Open it."

With a wary look, and biting her lip, she pried off the top, and dug through layers of tissue paper. "_What's_ in here?"

I held my breath.

Her hand excavated far enough and she inhaled. "Oh no you didn't?"

"I did."

She pulled her wedding dress from the box and held up the clean white dress to herself, but it bulged over her waist and bust line. "Oh Martin… I…" She choked and I saw tears run down her cheeks. "I thought _you_ binned it."

"Nope."

"But _you_ put it in a medical waste bag! I saw you!"

"Yes, I did, however I thought better of it and sent it to a restoration center. The veil is gone of course, and they had difficulty putting the hem right, but…"

I could say no more for she was suddenly hugging me tightly, sobbing into the shoulder of my jacket. Her pregnant belly and baps pressed solidly against me as we embraced.

Her biological clock had been stopped, but it was one I'd not want to restart, at least not anytime soon. Actually her particular clock had been stopped 12 weeks back, so we had 28 more to go.

I rubbed her back as she cried for some little while. "Louisa…" I kissed her head. "It's fine."

"I thought it was gone; all gone!" she blubbered.

"Not if we let it be."

She stared at me then kissed my full on the mouth. "_Whatever_ you say," she said softly.

I shook my head slightly. "I didn't say anything."

"I know," she answered me.

She wiped her face with a hand so I gave her my clean handkerchief. She shook her head. "I must look a fright."

My throat went tight. "You're so beautiful, Louisa. _Always_."

Then Louisa looked up into my face and touched my cheek. "Husband."

"Mrs. Ellingham."

We kissed deeply. It was time; about time we got it right and perhaps we'd make a proper job of it.

= = = The End = = =

000

**Thank you for reading my scribbles about Doc Martin Series 6 and Series 7 Prime, for it is always fun to explore the Portwenn-i-verse on fanfic. **

**Buffalo Pictures own all the rights to Doc Martin. This work of fanfiction has been provided strictly for amusement and I make no claim of ownership or remuneration.**

**Perhaps we'll meet in Portwenn someday?**

**Cheers.**

**Rob (Robspace54)**


End file.
